Two Boys, A Tree, And A Book
by MusicalEscape
Summary: Kurt Hummel climbed trees whenever he was upset. One day, he leaned upon the trunk of a tree and found the diary of one Blaine Anderson. Kurt decides to reply to the only diary entry, thus starting a lasting friendship... and hopefully a romance, too.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, dearies! I had an angsty idea, but as I typed it out it became friendly. Kind of like with Missing Puzzle Piece: my aim was to make it ominous, but it came out fluffy. I was still satisfied with the product, though, as I am with this.**

**So, AU, definitely. T to be safe, and probably for a future chapter. Yes, you read correctly: future chapter. As in multiple chapters. I'm so proud of myself! *proud tears* Do be warned, I might not update for long periods of time, either because of writers block or being busy. Hope I can make time!**

**Again, I thank all of my readers for their favorites, reviews, etc.**

**Disclaimer: I was looking for the deed for Glee, but then Brittany told me Lord Tubbington stole it and gave it to Ryan Murphy. *bows head in shame***

**Updateness: This was supposed to be up by 2 PM Eastern Time, except for some reason it wouldn't upload. And I was just talking to a friend, and I checked the file so I could email it to her- and it was completely blank. No worries, I managed to retrieve it, but I almost had a panic attack. Hopefully that won't happen again. Anyways, enjoy!**

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><p>Sometimes I wish I was a bird. I could fly high and free, among my dreams. I always did dream high.<p>

I could be away from my tormentors. They say that the sky's the limit. With wings, I could reach that.

One day I realized the closest I could be to flying was up a tree, hands reaching towards the sky. I could close my eyes and feel the clouds around me. So I started driving around, looking for a bunch of trees. I got lucky one afternoon and found a forest. Whenever I got angry, or sad, or lonely, I would visit the forest and climb a tree, tasting the freedom for the short amount of time I was allotted.

But that day was different.

The drive to the forest was normal. The trees were still just as I had memorized them. I started walking around, feeling the trunks of known trees.

I had stopped at a new tree. The bark was foreign under my fingertips. This would be my tree for the next hour or so, before I returned it to the animals.

I stepped back, and, with a running start, managed to run a few feet up the trunk, grabbing onto a low branch. Using the muscles I had developed as a Cheerio (and as an avid tree-climber), I lifted myself up, then climbed a few branches higher before settling down in a cradle where two branches met the base of the tree.

But as I leaned against the bark of the trunk, I felt a small hollow behind me. I swiveled cautiously, not wanting to fall.

There was a leather bound book, with a pen attached to the side.

Curiosity filled me, and I carefully picked up the book and brought it into my lap. It was black leather, with a small loop with a pen fitted snuggly inside of it. I opened to the first page.

It was handwritten. Was it…?

Unable to stop myself, I began to read.

_Dear Journal,_

_I feel kind of ridiculous writing this. I mean, I'm a 17 year old guy! Admittedly gay, but still._

That's… interesting.

_I guess if you're going to be my listening ear (so to speak, seeing as you can't exactly listen or reply) I should introduce myself. My name is Blaine Everett Anderson. I am a senior at Dalton Academy for boys, and lead soloist of our show choir, the Warblers. I'm gay as a rainbow, but (not to be conceited) several girls have mistaken me as… well, straight. I think you understand._

_Now, why did I buy this journal? I honestly have no idea. I guess you'll help me get my thoughts out, help me sort through things._

_Okay, maybe I _do _have a slight idea of why I'm writing. The boys at my school all have sticks up their asses. They're so… formal. For example, one of my best friends, Wes, is a councilman for the Warblers. He is _very _strict regarding rules, and never seems to actually have fun. I honestly have no idea how his girlfriend can stand him. And he's not even the worst case._

_I do believe I'm one of the only people at the school that isn't preppy and goes around reporting people for running in the hallways. Okay, maybe Jeff and Nick are okay. Well, not exactly okay, more like… insane. And that's probably what keeps them from succumbing to the stiffness that is Dalton._

_Don't get me wrong, I love it here. Zero-tolerance bullying policy, generally accepting student body… still, I'm missing something._

_Hey, I just realized something! Even though Dalton seems an ideal haven for people seeking a safe environment, I guess the tuition _is _kind of steep. So me, Jeff, and Nick are the only kids that have transferred from public school for… difficulties for being homosexual. The rest have been going to private school since they could talk. This makes me wonder exactly where they went to make them like this._

_Well, that's one mystery solved by writing on your pages! I guess I'll continue pouring my soul into you. I have to go now, before anyone gets suspicious. _

_Until next time, Blaine_

I slid the pen out of the loop, twirling it between my fingers. Finally, I pressed the pen-point onto the creamy sheet. No turning back now.

_Dear Blaine,_

_Before you get hysterical and think you're going insane, no, I am not your journal. Your journal probably could never have as fabulous handwriting as I do, anyways._

_You're probably wondering how I found your book. Well, normally I climb trees when I'm upset, and I've been climbing different trees here for about a month now. By chance I leaned against the hollow in this tree, revealing your book._

_Honestly, I'm surprised that there's another gay teen in Ohio. Lima isn't exactly a place where people are accepting. But maybe I'm wrong, since I drove at least an hour and a half to get here._

_Before I continue, I guess it would be fair to introduce myself, as you've done to me (unknowingly, but still.). My name is Kurt Hummel. I'm 16 and a junior at William McKinley High, where the favorite hobby of the jocks is throwing me in the dumpster. I am probably the most flamboyantly gay person you will ever meet. I am the countertenor of the glee club, New Directions._

_Now, back to addressing your problems: your school seems very... stiff. I would probably go insane if I was you. I suggest hanging out with Nick and Jeff more. The worst you can get is crazy, which is better than being bored to death. Or at least, that's what I think, but then again, I wouldn't know, since all of New Directions seem to have their quirks. But I'm still sane, for the most part, so try it out._

_Now, I don't really have much more to say, but I'll probably be writing back to you. I come here almost every day, anyways._

_Until next time, Kurt_

I signed my name with a flourish and surveyed my work. Satisfied, I replaced the pen, and set the journal back into it's hollow. As I slid out of the tree, I had one thought: _this could be fun._

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><p><strong>*fist pump* Hello productivity! (Well, for this chapter. I tried writing chapter 2 and hit a rut. Oh well, we'll see how it turns out.)<strong>

**Also: a reviewer to one of my stories told me that they found the link on Muchacha10's (Muchacha11 on tumblr) page. I started hyperventilating, but please, don't worry about me. Minor to moderate hyperventilation is a common occurrence for me when I read Klaine fics. So, here's a shout-out to Muchacha10 because I practically worship her Klaine art. Seriously, people, go check her out on deviantart (to steal a quote from Chris Colfer: "Check me out? Oh, that's suggestive.").**

**Also, as mentioned previously, this started out trying to be an angst story. Well, for all of you angst fans, I _will _follow through with this stories original intention, in a one shot.**

**So, see you people in chapter 2! -MusicalEscape**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello again, people! I finally found out how to enable anonymous reviews, but please, please don't abuse that.**

**Oh, and, um, guys? You do realize Missing Puzzle Piece and I Am That Person are complete? …Right? Because lately, there's been a spike in emails I get telling me people have added those story to their story alert list. While it makes me happy, I feel kind of weird having people waiting for a story that's done. So… take a moment and take MPP and IATP from your story alerts. Sorry if I made y'all feel awkward.**

**SPOILERS FOR PRETTY MUCH ALL OF GLEASON 2! For all the coming chapters, too.**

***rubs back of head* Sorry for not updating. There was school, then I had a really crappy day, both yesterday and today. So I spent a good portion of time eating about half my weight in food and reading angsty stories, and by the time I got round to proof reading this I had to go to bed. Then I tried to upload this from my iTouch, but the layout is so that I can't scroll. But, finally, here it is.**

**Disclaimer: Oh… Blaine jumped on another table and it broke, so Thad stole the Glee deed and sold it to Ryan Murphy so we could do furniture repairs…**

**Also: do not feel offended by my description of Rachel, as it is Kurt's way of describing her in a somewhat fond way. OH! Almost forgot. This is a definite AU, no? So that means I can manipulate things to my liking. So Carole married Burt before Karofsky kissed Kurt. I'll be adding when other important plot things take place as the story progresses. And Wes and David are canon!Wes and David, so that means they're prissy most of the time. Don't get me wrong, I love fanon!Wes and David. But this works better for the story. I'll shut up now. …Enjoy?**

**Warning, angsty, but it means plot progress next chapter.**

**OH! Almsot forgot this, too. The flashback scene wasn't going to be there, I was just going to have the journal writing, but credit to TheLuciferPerson for pushing me for a cut scene.**

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><p>It didn't take long for me to find my way back to the forest. Not 24 hours passed before I was cruising down the highway, heading towards my new confidant.<p>

I didn't really expect to be traveling this path again so soon, but I guess it was the way the Fates had written it. I could only restrain my tears as I made my way back to the tree and climbed to the same branch as the day before and pulled out the now familiar book.

I ran a hand down the leather on the front cover, and finally opened it. I flipped the pages, stopping at a recent addition to the journal. The same neat scrawl, filling up a portion of the creamy background.

_Dear Kurt,_

_You surprised me, when I first opened my journal to find writing that wasn't mine. (I admit, enough to make me almost fall out of the tree. I was saved by a branch nearby.)_

_***flashback to Blaine's POV***_

"What the...!" Blaine turned the page of his journal, only to find a length filled with loopy writing that was certainly not his own.

He did a half-jump, (as much as one can do while seated) and proceeded to do what most humans do when they lean back while on a partially unstable surface: fall.

Unfortunately for Mr. Anderson, he was in a tree, roughly 20 feet from the ground. Not the best place for a situation like the one he was currently in.

Arms flailing, Blaine was saved in an unusual and _very _lucky way: the collar of his blazer got snagged on a branch behind him. So, that's how Blaine Everett Anderson got stuck, legs draped over one branch, hanging precariously by the collar from another.

He really, _really _hoped Wes and David didn't take their walk now, as this would lead to an awkward moment and shame via facebook. Because David always kept a camera on him "in case there are any situations I can later use as blackmail. Like with George, I can make sure he doesn't miss any more Warbler's practices.."

Doing the only thing he knew would somewhat spare him embarrassment, Blaine dug his phone out of his pocket and called his brother.

"Hey, Scott? Mind coming to the woods near Dalton? I'm in… an interesting predicament."

Not 10 minutes later, a familiar brunette came bouncing along, leaves crunching beneath his black high tops. He looked left and right, not seeing his brother.

"Up here."

Nothing productive happened in the next 5 minutes, since Scott was bent over with laughter, cracking up every time he glanced up at his older brother. Finally, he managed to catch his breath long enough to call up "How the bloody hell did you get stuck like that?"

Blaine, being sore from hanging around (literally), yelled "Just get me down! I'll explain later!"

What happened next was unexplainable, because really, Blaine had no idea how his brother managed to save him, and Scott refused to tell. (Direct quote from Scott: "How? I'm just a ninja.") So let's just say that Scott got his brother down, and waited for him to explain _how_ he got stuck.

"Well, you know that journal I bought? I started writing in it to sort out my thoughts. Up that tree, to be exact. And, well, I opened the page to find _this._" Blaine picked up the book from where it had fallen, and showed his brother the loopy scripture that filled up about a page.

Scott grabbed one side of the journal and began to read aloud bits and pieces. "_Gay… Lima… Kurt Hummel… 16… junior at William McKinley High… flamboyantly gay… countertenor…_" Scott looked up at his brother, eyebrows raised suggestively. "Sounds like he's just your type."

Blaine blushed. "Shut up," he muttered. He yanked the journal out of Scott's grasp. "Your services are no longer needed. Shoo."

Scott smirked, and turned to leave. "Ask him what color scheme he wants for the wedding!" He turned and sprinted away, leaving Blaine blushing, holding his (and Kurt's?) journal open.

*_**End flashback***_

_Your handwriting is fabulous, by the way. Better than mine._

_You climb trees, huh? I've never been much of a tree climber until a few days ago when I was looking for a place to be able to write in this journal without being watched. If my 'friends' knew about this they would probably grade it or something._

_Anyways, I hope you weren't upset when you found my journal._

_Based on your surprise when you found out I was gay, I'll assume the gay population isn't very high near you. Anyways, welcome to Westerville Ohio, home of Dalton._

_Flamboyantly gay? And countertenor? Wow, you must get a lot of attention for that. Being countertenor, that is. The Warblers don't have any countertenors. The most we have are tenors like me._

_I guess I could hang out with Jeff and Nick more. We talk a bit, but I can try to establish a friendship._

_Speaking of those two, they pranked me earlier today. They stole my French homework and replaced it with something written in code. When I handed it in, Mr. J was NOT amused. They gave it back in the end._

_Hey, you didn't mention a middle name? Do you have one, and if that's a yes, am I allowed to know?_

_I should go and see where Nick and Jeff are. Until next time, Blaine_

I looked the page up and down again. He seemed to have given each answer a lot of thought.

_Dear Blaine,_

_I hope you didn't get hurt when you almost fell! First off, it would stink if you got injured. Especially for you. And I would feel horrible, and then I wouldn't be able to choose a nice outfit tomorrow. (Joking… for the most part.)_

_About the "attention" part. No, not really. Imagine the most competitive girl you know. Give her a whiny voice but an amazing singing voice. Make her short, with below the shoulder brown hair. Give her horrible animal sweaters, short skirts and knee highs that make her look atrocious. Make her constantly lovesick, and self centered while we're at it. That's Miss Rachel Berry, who gets all of the attention. She steals all of the attention from the equally as good/better singers in the club. So, no, not really._

_Yes, I do have a middle name._

_Today was one of the worst days of my life. It's a day that was important, a long time ago… and not in a good way. On top of it being that day, I got 2 dumpster dives, got my favorite shirt ruined when a jock threw a grape slushie at me (The shirt is white. You do the math.), got yet another 4 locker shoves, and was harassed in the locker room. And then I go back to my car, my baby, to find the words 'fag', 'faggot', 'queer', 'fairy', and 'lady' among others keyed into my car._

_The worst was explaining it to my dad. While he's accepting, he's still getting used to the idea of me being… well, gay. I don't think this was very good for his heart._

_I feel kind of lighter now that I've poured my problems onto paper. Thanks for lending me your journal, I guess?_

_Till next time, Kurt._

I sat up against the tree trunk. I no longer felt a weight on my shoulders. Or at least, it lessened. It was still _that day, _after all. But hopefully it would get better.

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><p><strong>*shudders* I hate those- those words... *holds up three fingers on the right hand* Girl scouts honor, I will never use them unless they are for story purposes! And even then, I will use them sparingly! On my honor!<strong>

**Abrupt ending, yes. But plot progress next chapter! *fist pump***

**Kind of angsty… sorry? But it leads to plot development! I swear! If I didn't have that, this would just be a filler and I wouldn't get anywhere with the next millennia! Spare me!**

**Oh, and reviews make my days better. Please do, since when I had those sucky days it was reading you guys' reviews that made me better. So… review please?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi everyone! This story is making PROGRESS! Heck yeah!**

**To all of you people that added this as a favorite/added this to story alerts, thanks! You guys give me enough drive to pull up Word Doc and type, type, TYPE! (I'm writing this the next day. THANK GUCCI FOR THUMBDRIVES. You know how for my other story the computer deleted the file? Well, the same thing happened with this little gem. Except I couldn't retrieve it. Thank goodness my dad just gave me a new thumbdrive.)**

**Um… I forgot what I was going to say. Oh, yeah. Sorry. To all of those people who commented on Team Niff/ and or Scott, they might be making a comeback. Ok, more than maybe. But there's a poll on my profile about which you would like to see most. You can choose Scott, Jeff and Nick, or both!**

**Rated T for language.**

**Disclaimer: Oh, Sue took the- *struggling sounds* This is Sue Sylvester. You tell no one of this. In no way did I give Ryan Murphy the contract for Glee. This conversation never happened. *line goes dead***

**Plot changes in this chapter: Kurt didn't throw the high F. The evil phone call never happened. The kid needs some happiness, especially after this chapter. Also, this irks me as a true(-ly annoying) singer. The high F is NOT at the end of the song. The 'down' doesn't go that high. It's the lines "I'm flying high, deFYing gravity!" that 'fy' in defying. Just so you know.**

**WARNING! WARNING! WARNING! Some hard-core angst; explains death of Kurt's mother. If you don't deal well with angst, skip the explanation of Kurt's middle name when he writes in the journal, just go straight to "On a much happier note..."**

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><p>The next day (Saturday), I woke up and reached for my phone on my nightstand.<p>

…Nothing?

I opened my eyes a crack, and looked at my nightstand.

Nothing.

I quickly sat up and frantically searched the floor. Clean, without a single item lying around.

Then where was my phone?

I pressed my hand to my forehead. What had I done with my iPhone?

I had it at school on Friday. I had it on the way to the forest.

But… I didn't have it after I came _out_ of the forest.

Crap.

I threw on one of my backup pre-made outfits, and after a rushed "Good morning!" to my dad, I climbed into Finn's car. (Mine was still under repair.)

As I drove to the forest, slightly faster than normal, I imagined the worst case scenarios.

I could have dropped it as I exit my car, and ran over it. It could've fallen out of my pocket, and maybe it rained last night. It could've fallen out of the tree. Someone could have found it.

I really hoped it wasn't that last one, since, although I didn't have any pictures of myself on my phone, I had one of Tina and Mercedes. Plus their phone numbers.

This could indeed be very bad.

I finally reached the woods, near... Westerville, did Blaine say? I hopped out of my car, getting down on my hands and knees to search for my phone. At the moment, I really didn't care about grass stains. It was my freaking _phone, _with my friends' information.

After scrounging around for a while, I decided to retrace my steps into the forest. I kept my eyes carefully scanning the leaves as they crunched beneath me, feeling for the trunks that would help me navigate.

I stopped short at my- _our _tree. I debated for a second, then latched onto one of the branches and hoisted myself up, stopping every few seconds to see if my phone was stuck between any twigs.

Finally, I reached the same branch that I had sat upon the last two days. I settled back, tired after my searching.

I decided this would be a good time to take a break. I could just cancel my phone, I guess.

I reached into the small hollow in the trunk for Blaine's (and mine) journal. My hand hit something else, though.

Metal.

What?

I pulled out the object.

My phone?

Oh my Gaga. It was my phone, not one scratch. But… in the hollow?

I quickly grabbed the book from the little hole in the tree, hastily flipping pages.

_Dear Kurt,_

_If you were wondering, I found your phone near this tree. I left it with the journal, as you probably know, because the little hole keeps out the rain and such. You should try and keep track of your stuff better._

_Um… I hope you don't mind, but I put my number into the contacts. In case, you know, you need help with the bullying. I'm no expert, but I've had some experience in the past. Don't hesitate to call me, okay?_

Wait, what? I pulled up the contacts list on my iPhone. Yup, right there. Blaine Anderson.

_Uh… sorry if I sounded creepy. You can delete the number if you want. Completely disregard it._

_Anyways, I took your advice and started talking to Nick and Jeff more. Actually, they were kind of creepy, but…_

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><p>Blaine took a deep breath as he stepped into Dalton's cafeteria. <em>Now or never, <em>he told himself.

With a last glance at Wes and David, who were solemnly discussing something at his regular table, Blaine marched over to the table that held Nick and Jeff. No one else, probably because the whole school thought they were insane. Most likely true, but it was a... _nice_ insane.

Nick and Jeff stopped goofing around and looked up at Blaine.

"Hi," he said uncomfortably, glancing back and forth between the two before him.

The duo automatically adopted a serious posture, backs straight and hands folded on the table in front of them. It unnerved Blaine; did they not want him around?

"Take a seat," Nick commanded. Blaine sat, fidgeting slightly.

Jeff stared at him for a second. "We have been awaiting you, grasshopper," he said finally.

Looking incredulous, Blaine asked, dumbfounded, "…What?"

Abandoning all formality, Nick and Jeff stared at him, grinning. "Well, you see," began Nick, "Us three are the only sane people in this school." _Yeah, right, _Blaine snorted silently. "Me and Jeff were smart enough to realize we should hang out on the first day. We were just waiting for you to come around, because the people you hang with? They suck. They reprimand you for little to _no_ reason. Honestly, I got in trouble because my shoes weren't completely under my bed. _Someone could have tripped,_" Nick mimicked, sounding a lot like Wes.

"So," Jeff continued, "We must band together as not to go insane. I don't want a life full of stiff suits and fake pleasantries. Plus I'll never score a boyfriend. Did you hear?" Nick shook his head no, as did Blaine. Jeff leaned forward, whispering furiously. "Thad's girlfriend broke up with him 5 minutes into their first date. She came running into my dorm last night. She told me that he's 'too stiff and needs to loosen up.' That he treated her like a stranger that he bumped into, too formal. He wore a suit, apparently. To the movie theatre. To see _Green Lantern_." Jeff grinned. "We ended up watching _Supernatural _and eating ice cream, reflecting about how some guys should get the sticks out of their asses and have fun."

Nick looked scandalized. "You didn't invite me?" he asked indignantly.

"You had to work on that essay." Jeff waved him off. "Anyways, these guys are _too. Damn. Stiff. _So we're glad you came to us. We will help preserve your sanity. Or insanity, your choice."

Blaine stared at them, before whispering "Thank you," with shining eyes.

"No problem," Nick grinned. "Now, first order of business: weaning you off that gel. You look like a priss."

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><p><em>Anyways, thanks for the advice. Jeff and Nick… their insanity is a gift in a sea of barren blue. With them as friends, life is hectic, but at least it's never dull. In fact, last night they persuaded me to climb up the fire escape with them.<em>

_It was definitely worth it… I could see stars as far as the tops of these trees. Jeff kept pointing out different stars to us. Um… if this isn't too creepy, if you ever text me- not that you have to! Then maybe I could send you a picture of the stars._

_You do have a middle name? Am I allowed to hear it? Or is it personal?_

_I'll stop sounding like a creeper now and shut up._

_Signed, Blaine_

I smiled to myself. I'm glad I could help someone, seeing as my fellow Glee clubbers seemed to think I was useless. My smile faded as I thought back a few days.

I shook my head quickly, ridding myself of the thoughts. I should be happy for Blaine.

And I was.

I picked up the pen and began scribbling on the paper.

_Dear Blaine,_

_Thank you SO much for returning my phone. I nearly had a heart attack when I woke up and couldn't find it._

I paused before writing the next part. Should I trust this guy?

He seems nice. And he probably won't creep on Mercedes or the girls because, before I was around, he admitted he was gay.

I decided to chance it.

_Don't worry, you weren't creepy. Much. :P_

_I'll probably call or text you, if that's okay. No one else at my school is gay- or at least out- so there's not exactly anyone I can turn to. The girls are understanding, but they just don't get it. I mean, they get bullied for being in Glee, but that's not the same._

_I'm glad I could help you. Believe me, with all of the drama in New Directions, there is NEVER time to sit around being bored. It's crazy, but we're a family. A big, dysfunctional family with the added drama of hooking and breaking up with each other._

_Um… I would like the picture of the stars. Once I text you, just add my number._

_And I guess… if we're going to be open and help each other, I'll tell you what my middle name is._

I took a deep breath. I needed to tell someone, and Blaine couldn't actually judge me because I've never actually met him. And if he makes fun of me I could just stop coming here. Easy.

_My full name is Kurt Elizabeth Hummel. Elizabeth wasn't my given middle name. It was actually Jacob, after some dead uncle I had never met. Kurt Jacob Hummel. Not much of a ring to it._

_I asked my dad to change my middle name to Elizabeth after my mom died._

_It happened when I was 8. My mom had gone to get a shot of some sort, and apparently a nurse forgot to replace the needles. They later found out the nurse was developing Alzheimer's, but that's not important. Apparently the person using the needle before her had HIV. And they didn't even know mom had got it. She just got a small cold one day… and then she was gone._

_I just wanted to keep her alive somehow, as the smell of her perfume started to fade from the boudoir. So I asked my dad to change my middle name._

_That's all there is, I'm sorry if I depressed you._

_On a much happier note, I got a solo that I might sing at Sectionals; Rachel Berry got mad that our Glee director, Mr. Schuester, gave me the solo for Defying Gravity and dueled me for it. I won, actually. The expression on Rachel's face when I hit the High F was priceless._

_Whoops. Just realized the pun. On a much happier NOTE. Unintentional?_

_Sorry about the depressing story, Kurt_

I looked at my work. Blaine was the second person, not including my dad, who I've told about my middle name. The other being Mercedes.

But it was pen, and while pen can be scribbled out, it can never be truly erased. No turning back.

I sat in the tree for about an hour, thinking, until I turned on my phone and pulled up a new text.

_Blaine? It's me, Kurt._

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><p><strong>Oh Gucci that was depressing. Hope that didn't make you guys too sad. If you want, I'll repent and make next chapter as hilarious as I can, but it'll probably be a filler. Unless… never mind, plot progress and hilarity is being planned!<strong>

**The story is going to slowly shift from just being around the forest; I'll add places where Kurt's texting Blaine. But not Blaine's POV, unless it's in a diary entry. Because I am determined to keep this Kurt-centric.**

**Softball 3 times a week, school, and other stuff. I hope you're happy with this chapter (it's okay if you're not) because I have to now rush through 125 pages of a book I'm supposed to read by tomorrow. And I gained 3 pounds from not exercising and just sitting here typing. What happened to my life? Oh, yeah. I learned of Klaine :D**

**I should now shut up before Sue-**

**Sue: I just Sue-per glued her annoying, fat mouth shut. Now either review this sickening piece of crap or go do something useful, like burning Schuester's vests.**


	4. Chapter 4

**I am so sorry for the wait. First my computer crashed, deleting everything, then Fanfiction was being glitchy again and decided to reject the file I was uploading. For. 5. Days. So this is 5 days late, and short. Sorry...**

**So... TPPP. SPOILERS AHEAD FOR THIS PARAGRAPH! Well, I adore the idea of randomly breaking into song, because I'm very good at annoying the crap out of my friends with my constant singing. I once told my friend that if I don't sing for more than 20 minutes, first check my pulse, check if I'm sick, then check if I'm depressed. Except I sing even if I'm depressed... well, moving on, I adored this episode. I got to try my lungs out against Harmony. And yes... I sang the note 5 seconds longer than her. Overall, I loved this eppy. Klaine was awesome. I loved Blaine's outfit, but his IAU (NO SPOILERS FOR IAU HERE) outfit made me blind. Just... no. I'll shut up now.**

**Ah, the dreaded NBK scene. Had to happen at one point or another. This will obviously not be accurate, since the first episode I watched was AVGC, which pretty much saved me. (That'll be a story to tell the kids... or maybe my profile. Yeah, I'll put that up there to bore you people.) KURT ANGST! (Sorry, boo...)**

**Over a review to _xBleedingBlackRosex _about her fic, Puppy Love, I talked about *spoiler censor*, and slipped in some AVPM :D She decided we were destined to be married, or so the Redvines prophesied. So, shoutout to her :D**

**Again, spoilers for pretty much all of season 2 throughout this story. NBK featured here today. **

**Disclaimer: Sue said if I didn't give her the Glee deed, she would tear out my balls. I don't think she understands I'm female... but I don't really trust Sue, so I gave them to her and she walked away saying something about eggs.**

**Oh, and guys? This will seem a bit rushed and choppy towards the end. That's how it's supposed to be. Okay, enjoy!**

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><p>I pulled out my phone and snapped a picture of the night sky.<p>

_Thanks for the pic yesterday_.

I sent the photo, then lay on my back, gazing at the stars. Wearily, I pointed at Orion's Belt.

"I remember what you taught me, mom," I whispered. "I remember."

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><p>I thought back to that day. No, not the one that was eight years ago, the anniversary a few days ago.<p>

I wrote to Blaine. I also went to visit her- her- resting place.

I looked back up at Orion's Belt.

"Hey, mom? I know I don't believe in God, but if you can hear me, I'm alright." I traced the stars with my finger. "I found someone who helps me, and who I help. I think he understands what I'm going through. So, don't worry. And-" I felt a tear form in my eye. "I love you. Always, no matter how long you're gone. I promise to fulfill my dreams. For you."

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><p>I stretched. It was around three AM, according to my phone. But the stars kept me awake. I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep for a while.<p>

I folded my blanket and slipped into the house, jotting down a quick note for my dad.

_Dad, don't worry if I'm not there when you wake up. I'm just going to a place that has a good view of the stars, or so a friend told me._

I left the note on the kitchen table. I once again scooped up my blanket, and headed for my car.

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><p>I dreamed of climbing a tree. Ironic, huh?<p>

Because when I woke up, I was in the Dalton forest. Up our tree. Leaning against the trunk.

How the _hell_ did I not fall?

Well, that wasn't the biggest surprise. A pair of green eyes was staring into mine.

I yelped. The stranger put a hand on my shoulder, saying "Whoa, steady there." He stared at me a second, then said "You're not Blaine."

I stared back. "I know that," I replied. "Who are _you_?"

"Oh!" The guy leaned back, away from me. "Scott Anderson, Blaine Anderson's younger and more attractive brother. Who are you, Sleepy One?"

Dazed from sleep, I answered "Kurt. Kurt Hummel." Probably shouldn't have told Mr. Random Stranger that, but hey, too-

Wait. Blaine Anderson's brother?

"So you're the one Blainey has been writing to. Nice to meet ya." He beamed.

"Blaine never mentioned a brother," I said slowly. "But then again, we've only known each other for half a week, maybe."

He-I mean, Scott, sighed. "Yes. Four days now, actually. Four days of textimg. Calling. Writing. Do you know how many times I've had to hear Katy Perry whenever Blainers got a text? And you don't even know what he looks like." He rolled his eyes.

"I- I'm sorry," I stuttered. "Is that a problem?"

"No, not really. Just be careful, okay? The kid has been hurt before."

What?

Scott started to slide down the branch, but stopped. "Hey, Kurt?" I looked at him. "I'm about to go all wise-man on you.

"Look, I may have known you for only about 5 minutes, but I can tell you're troubled. Blaine had that same expression a while back. Just... don't be afraid to tell what you feel, and seek help if needed."

With that, he slipped out of sight.

So, tell what I feel, huh?

* * *

><p>"<em>What<em> is your problem?"

I stared at Karofsky, an ugly expression on my face as I started ranting.

He reached his hands up, and I flinched slightly, waiting for the blow to come.

It didn't. Something worse did.

Grimy hands gripping my cheeks, rough lips cutting mine.

I was losing my first kiss to my tormentor. The one who called me ugly names, who ruined thousands of dollars of clothes with flavored ice.

Kissing me.

He broke away from me, and started to dive into another kiss. I pushed him away, half sobbing.

He ran, like a coward. I stayed, touching my bruised lips.

I fell into a heap on the floor, crying openly. I dug my phone out of my pocket, dialing a familiar number. Now wasn't the time for texts, I needed some real comfort.

I drew in a shaky breath. "Blaine?" I choked out, before letting my cries rack my body. At least now, there was someone to hear me.

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><p><strong>Please don't kill Scott? He's still an awesome ninja, I just needed the plot to progress somehow, I honestly didn't know he would be the cause of this. I was just tapping along on my iTouch and this is what came out.<strong>

**Again, sorry for the lateness. I'll make up for it when inspiration strikes. (I've written 4 chapters on inspiration alone. Wow.)**

**Oh, yeah. I GOT INTO POTTERMORE! I was probably the last person to get my letter, since I managed to get in within the last 5 minutes. But the sites awesome, and so's the art. Trust me, the art is worth it even if you hate HP.**

**Mike: *does Asian moonwalk***

**Tina: That means review or face his Asian wrath.**

**Me: Racist!**

**Tina: Aren't _you _Asian?**

**Me: ...*stalks off to eat Redvines***


	5. Chapter 5

**Just a warning, I'm going back and editing each chapter to make minor adjustments so everything on my timeline adds up, and to also make sure the AN style is the same each time- that's to say, bolded. So, if you get alerts for chapters previously published, ignore.**

**Some people asked me why my AN are so long, etc. Not calling them out, just wanted to say it helps me feel closer to my readers. I'm quite busy, so if someone makes a passing remark about something in my AN I kinda feel a bit closer to said reader. Okay, I'll shut up now. Enjoy.**

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><p>I turned down the music from my iPod as my cell phone rang, echoing Lady Gaga's <em>Telephone<em>.

My thumb punched the answer button, and a warm voice seemed to envelope me at once.

"Hey, Kurt!"

I sat up straighter, carefully setting aside my _Vogue _issue. "Hey, Blaine!"We made mindless small talk for a while, as I let the warmth and kindness of Blaine's voice flow through me. It was like a blanket, comfortably slipping itself around my shoulders, like a-

Ugh. I needed to stop. It wasn't like he was my _knight in shining armor, _I hadn't even _met _him! Just a stupid fantasy since the previous day, when he whispered soothing nothings into my ear until I stopped crying, who sat up until 11 PM talking about anything, comforting me.

Everything I thought Finn was. But real, this time.

"So… how are you holding up?"

I felt a twinge in my chest, thinking back. I shook my head quickly, and replied "Fine. Distracting myself. But enough about me! Why did you call?"

There was a pause on the other end.

Finally, I heard a breath.

"Before the- the Karofsky event, you talked to Scott."

I thought back to the perky kid with the green eyes. "Yeah, what about it?"

Another pause. I waited.

"It's my fault this happened!" Blaine finally blurted.

"Wait, what?" That didn't make sense. I went after Karofsky because I was fed up. My emotions were out of whack.

Another pause, shorter this time.

"When I was at my old school, before Dalton," he began, "Before- I'm not ready to tell you that," he admitted quietly, before continuing. "Well, I always told myself that to get through that Hell-hole, I had to be unafraid of the bullies- tell them what I was thinking, and if things got worse, find help. It actually kind of helped." A chuckle. "It was mostly verbal abuse, so I just told them to stop, that one day someone would catch them and I wouldn't be sorry watching them go. Small things, not a threat to the bullies, just an exercise of free speech. When Scott and I talked, late at night, he sometimes asked me how I got through it all. I told him that- I just told what I felt, and promised myself to seek help if necessary." Blaine sighed.

"Last night, Scott told me he met one Kurt Hummel, and relayed the whole story. How he told you to do what I did. I- I'm such an idiot."

"Hey!" I protested. "It's not your fault. You couldn't have known that Scott would tell. And you couldn't have known what I would do."

Blaine's voice quivered. "I know. I just feel like such a moron. And," he added quietly, "I didn't want anyone else to get hurt like I did because I was so _stupid _and- and naïve."

"It's not your fault," I repeated firmly. And for the next few minutes, we just listened to the quiet breathing of the other. At the moment, we were both okay. That's what counted.

* * *

><p>"Mercedes!" I gasped, bent over with laughter.<p>

She smiled, before standing up. "Well, I gotta go babysit my little brother. Seeya, white boy." She turned to exit the coffee shop, giving me a small wave, which I returned.

I sat back in my chair, sipping my coffee. I thought back to the previous day's events- the kiss- insert shudder- and the phone call. Talking to Blaine was a comfort, and right now I needed some comfort. Mercedes had occupied my mind for a while, but now my mind was free to wander where it shouldn't.

I picked up by phone and pulled up Blaine's number, hitting dial. I waited for him to pick up.

"Hello?"

"Hey Blaine!" I chirped enthusiastically, not wanting for it to seem as if I was troubled.

"Oh, hey Kurt!" I could hear the scraping of a chair on his end, which I ignored. "What's up?"

"Well," I began cheerfully, "I needed distracting, you're entertaining. Amuse me."

Blaine chuckled, and answered "Sure! Any specific topic?"

"Surprise me."

"Well... Anything? Alright. I'm a Harry Potter nerd."

A laugh bubbled in my throat. "Oh, really? What house would you be in?"

"Well, I always found Gryffindors to be outstanding- courage!" he joked. "What about you?"

"I was always partial to Ravenclaws, but I guess Slytherin."

Blaine gasped. "But they're evil!" I could hear the astonishment in his voice. I giggled.

"Not necessarily. We just know what we want and aspire to get it. I would be a fashionable Slytherin, too. Their colors are the best."

We continued on in this manner for a while, joking and laughing.

"So... This may seem random, but do you like coffee?"

I laughed. "Are you insane? Of course I do! I'm drinking some right now."

"What kind?"

"Grande non-fat mocha, my favorite."

"I'm more of a drip guy myself, actually."

I started to stand, tossing my empty cup into the trash. "Well, it's getting late. I better go. Talk to you soon?"

Blaine agreed, and we hung up. I walked out of the shop with shoulders held slightly higher, yesterday's burden lighter on my back.

* * *

><p><strong>Hmm. I expected this to be longer. The iTouch makes everything look longer. (RIP, Steve Jobs.) Anyways, the reason this is so short? Well, A) I can't write fillers, B) I'm up to my neck in schoolwork and such (this was originally supposed to be up days ago, but they sprung a surprise project on me and it all went to heck), and C, which I think you guys will like: I got jumped by quite a few plot bunnies. I have a oneshot that I'm a few lines from finishing, an idea for another multi-chapter (I will continue to focus on this one, however), and a few more random ideas hopping about.<strong>

**Now I really need to go before I get stripped of my computer usage rights. Until next time (next chapter will be MUCH longer, since it's a major plotpoint! :D)**


	6. Chapter 6

**I'm still alive! Remember, me, the crazy girl that loves Klaine?**

**My only excuse is homework. Lets see… weekly book reports, lab reports for tech, huge history test this Thursday, questions 1-26 in history as well, pages 1-88 for science, learn how to conjugate French verbs, art project… it goes on forever. That's only Monday's work. So… yeah. Sorry.**

**Now I'll shut up so you can enjoy the chapter. And before I forget, if you're confused with the timeline, just send a PM my way and I'll happily provide one. To the people that are too young for fanfiction… at one point or another, I might post it at the end of a chapter, I just need to know how many of you are confused so I can see if I need to post one. So include something in your review if you can.**

**Disclaimer: Um… I auditioned to be a Klaine fangirl that followed them around, taking notes and snapping pictures and basically creeping them out, but alas, RIB found no need for me. Shame, I'm very good at acting awestruck and being weird. *bounces off to find chocolate***

**Chapter notes: Still set in NBK, after Karofsky kisses Kurt, before they confront Karofsky. That's next chapter, or the chapter after. Sorry, I honestly thought this was going to be the chapter with a major Gleason 2 plotpoint. Apologies.**

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><p>"Kurt, I understand this may be... hard for you, but he's confused. You need to talk to him, let him know he's not alone."<p>

"Blaine." I uttered the single syllable quietly.

Immediately Blaine's tone softened. "Kurt. I'm not asking you to do this just for him. It might help you, too. If we don't confront him, he might continue harassing you, waiting for the right chance, to- to-" His breath caught for a second before he calmed down. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"It's fine," I said, but frowned. That was the third time this week that Blaine had stuttered to a stop... Probably from a horrible past remembrance. I didn't pry.

"Okay, but how do I go about doing this?" I rolled my eyes, although I knew Blaine couldn't see me. "I can't just walk up to him and say 'Look, you kissed me, so I'll mentor you.' It doesn't work like that. Plus he's like a foot taller than me."

"Then let me talk to him."

I laughed. "You can't do that. For starters, you don't know where I go to school." I paused. "Do you?"

"No, of course not! You could let me talk to him, over the phone maybe?"

Over the phone. _"It's okay, Kurt. It's going to be fine. You just need to calm down, you hear me? As soon as you think you can drive, go home, okay?"_

Over the phone. A lot of comfort seems to be given over the phone, huh?

...Comfort? Maybe... Maybe Karofsky _did_ need some comfort. It was worth a shot, I guess.

"Fine."

* * *

><p>I switched my computer on. Time for some fashion research.<p>

Wait. Did the computer calendar say it's Saturday?

It was Saturday. The last time I was at the forest was when I met Scott... 6 days ago. Sunday.

I switched off the computer and grabbed my bag. I jogged down the stairs to the front hallway, yelling an "I'm going out!" in the general direction of the basement. I heard a prehistoric grunt in return.

I climbed into my thankfully restored car, carefully tossing my bag into the seat next to me. I cranked up the volume on the radio for the ride to the woods.

I arrived at the forest and once again set to climb our tree. I reached the little crook and settled in, pulling out the familiar journal and replacing it with my bag. I glanced down at the multitude of entries, from various days of the past week.

_Dear Kurt,_

_Today you called me about Karofsky. Kurovskee? I'll stick to the first spelling._

_Well, today you called me about Karofsky kissing you. I asked if he did it with permission. You sobbed our a no, then proceeded to tell me through heart wrenching sobs that he was your main tormentor- closeted, apparently._

_Honestly, I had to stop myself from crying. You sounded so... broken. But I reminded myself to stay strong. I hope you're okay. I don't look down on you because of this._

_-Blaine_

He... Felt like crying? About me?

_Dear Kurt,_

_Today you called me again. I didn't really recognize your voice, since you were crying last time you called me- no offense. Your voice sounded wonderful. I bet you're a great countertenor._

_You called me and asked me to distract you. Well, I hope I didn't freak you out with my Harry Potter nerdiness. (GRYFFINDOR FOREVER!)_

_I'm surprised be pleased that you like coffee. I practically live off that stuff, with all the craziness in the dorms the night before (courtesy of Nick and Jeff)._

_Speaking of those two, they just texted me about needing a hiding place for Wes's gavel. I have to go make sure Wes doesn't maim them._

_Until next time,_

_Blaine._

_Dear Kurt,_

_Do you still come to the forest? You haven't written back in a while. We still text, with the occasional call, but... Maybe this is just me. Excuse me for reminding you, but you've gone through a pretty traumatic event in the last few days._

_Moving on to happier topics... Jeff and Nick have accepted me into their 2-person clique. Yesterday, after showing me where they hid We's gavel(hanging from the ceiling fan in Warbler's hall. Don't ask how, because that's a 25 foot high ceiling.), they dragged me into an impromptu performance of Waking Up in Vegas. It was actually quite interesting belting out Katy to a statue of old Herman Dalton. I'm pretty sure I saw a few video cameras as well as phone cameras, but I honestly don't care._

_Last night the twins trouble were doing who-knows-what, but it sounded vaguely like they were being chased by someone (probably Wes). Today, they woke me up at 3 AM to go to "the greatest coffee shop in all of Ohio." More than a little out of our way- 2 hours away, to be exact. But the whole ride there they swore up and down that it "completely and utterly ("Heh, udder.") pwns all other coffee in Ohio and it makes the little coffee babies cry in fear." I honestly did _not_ want to know..._

_Anyways, we got there as it was opening, around 5 AM. The shop's called the Lima Bean, maybe you've heard of it?_

_Jeff and Nick somehow knew my coffee order, and we got our coffee fairly quickly. Then we hurried back to Dalton._

_I have one thing to say about that little adventure:_

_BEST. COFFEE. EVER. Good muffins, too. The chocolate chip completely outdid The Expresso Shot's. I'm definitely going back there again, if I ever have enough time._

_Hope you write back soon,_

_Blaine_

...Lima Bean? They went to the _Lima Bean_? That is too much of a coincidence. It's insane.

_Dear Kurt,_

_I'm getting a little worried now. It's Thursday, and you still haven't written back. I'm not going to bring this up in our text conversations, though._

_Anyways, not much happened today. I went shopping and saw this awesome Gryffindor color striped tie. I got a Slytherin one, too, as well as Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Maybe Jeff and Nick like Harry Potter too?_

_Not much else to say. Hope you write back._

_Blaine._

_Dear Kurt,_

_Sorry I didn't write Friday. I was busy. Anyways, it's about 9 AM on a Saturday morning, so there's a lot of time left in the day for wrecking havock. I'm scribbling this down quickly so I can continue my search._

_I think I might have done the most insane thing ever._

_Remember Scott? And how I tell you about Nick and Jeff? Well, today Wes told us we had extra Warblers practicesI decided, for some unknown reason, that Scott should meet the resident crazies at Dalton. So I called Scott and told him to meet me in the common room. Then I introduced Team Neff(they requested I call them that) to Ninja Scott(threatened me with embarrassing stories from years back)._

_I excused myself to finish some homework, so I didn't see much after that. In retrospect, I should've been worried when Scott immediately started giving Nick and Jeff ninja lessons, but too late for that._

_So I returned after finishing homework, to find an empty common room. Sans a note. It read "Dear Blaine, Nick and Jeff are showing me Dalton. We're also spirit hunting in broad daylight. Peace out. I'll be back home for dinner. –Scott"_

_Well, I have to go search for them before they destroy something. I'll probably call you later._

_Signed, Blaine_

I shook my head and smiled. Those crazy people.

While shaking my head, I noticed someone standing at the base of the tree, looking up.

Someone in a blue blazer with an emblazoned 'D' on the breast pocket.

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><p><strong>I totally left you with a cliffhanger. I'm evil. I know. Thank you. *elaborate bow*<strong>

**Until next time, dearies. (I'm getting tired of calling you dearies… any suggestions are welcome!)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Plot changes from canon: The Kurt-confronting-Karofsky-with-Blaine happens in the locker room, because I know nothing of that episode- I'm relying on Wikipedia- and the most I can find is a picture of Blaine against a fence. So now it's in the locker room.**

**Now, read, rest of AN later!**

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><p>I blinked at the figure below me. Could it be... him?<p>

I waved awkwardly at him, shoving the journal back into the hollow and retrieving my bag.

The brunette blinked up at me again, before turning and yelling "Jeff! Scott! I found someone!"

...huh?

That didn't sound like Blaine. At all. Maybe his voice sounded different in reality, but it seriously can't be _that_ far off from the phone conversations.

I hopped down to the ground. By then, Scott and a guy I was assuming was Jeff had joined Mr. Brunette's side. Scott beamed upon seeing me, offering a cheery "Hey Kurt!"

The other two looked at him, one of them asking "You know him?"

Scott's grin widened, if that was possible. "The guy Blaine's been texting for a week."

I could see realization dawn on their faces. The blonde- Jeff, was he?- extended his hand.

"Jeff Sterling. This is my idiot sidekick, Nick."

Nick- the brunette- scowled playfully. "Last I checked, _I_ was keeping _you_ from making a fool of yourself."

Jeff shrugged. "We humiliate ourselves intentionally on a daily basis. What's the point?"

At that point, Scott swung his arms around both of their shoulders, pronouncing that they were his "Ninja apprentices."

...are they always this insane? (Actually, quite normal next to Brittany, but still.)

"Well, we won't keep you. Besides, lunch is calling. We'll keep in touch." With an exaggerated wink, Jeff grabbed Nick's hand and started dragging him out of the forest area, Scott close behind. I watched them for a minute, before turning and climbing the tree again. Shoving my bag into the hollow, I opened the journal and started writing.

_Dear Blaine,_

_Sorry for not writing. I guess I forgot about the forest when we started calling. I'll try to be better about this._

_To address the main points of entries past, yes, I've heard of the Lima Bean. My friends go there sometimes._

Okay, just a tiny white lie. (And my friends usually went to the LB _with_ me... but no one needs to know that.)

_I also ran into Nick, Jeff, and Scott. We chatted a bit. They were relatively normal, so I wouldn't worry too much._

(I hope he realizes the main point of the sentence was the words _too much_.)

_Actually... Seeing Nick staring up at me from the ground, I thought he was you. I have no pictures to go by- and please, don't feel obligated to give me a picture because if we do meet, I want to be taken completely by surprise. (I've never had a surprise party thrown for me- back in the younger days, I never really had any friends to throw me a party, now that I think of it...) but yeah. Then he called out to Jeff and Scott and I could tell that he was_ not _you. He doesn't sound like you at all._

_Also, this might just be me, but does Jeff have a crush on Nick? While he was dragging him out of the forest, he seemed to grip Nick's hand a little tighter than necessary..._

_I suppose I'll be calling you later tonight about Karofsky and trying to talk to him._

_Until then, Kurt_

Not the best note, but it was normal. Kind of.

I gathered my belongings and hopped out of the tree; I had a phone call to make.

* * *

><p>I waited until the hallways were basically empty before making my move. According to a blissfully ignorant Finn, Karofsky stayed after school on Mondays to work out or something. I could probably catch him in the locker room if I hurried.<p>

I left my bag in my car, taking only my phone. I speed dialed Blaine as I walked into the school (McKinley security isn't that great, as you can tell).

"Kurt?"

"I'm ready."

Silence from the other end. Finally, "I just nodded," floated through the phone in an endearingly sheepish way.

I turned a corner, and took a deep breath. "Here goes."

I walked into the locker room, carefully searching for any signs of Karofsky.

And then _he_ walked in, a scowl on his face, not yet seeing me.

I released a shuttering breath before stepping forward.

"Karofsky?"

He turned, his expression morphing into a mix between a sneer and a glare.

"What do you want, homo?"

I could hear Blaine's breath catch through the phone, almost too quick to hear.

"To talk to you," I said, holding out my phone. "I have a friend who might understand what you're going through."

I knew both Karofsky and I could hear Blaine's voice spewing from my iPhone. "Dave, I understand you might be confused right now, but we may be able to help you embrace your sexuality-"

Karofsky's face went red, and he suddenly brought a hand up and slapped my phone out of my hand. I could hear the bang of metal meeting metal somewhere to my right, but I couldn't turn my head; I was paralyzed with fear.

Karofsky pushed past me, shoving me to the floor. I could hear the door open somewhere behind me, then swish closed.

I gasped for breath for a second, sitting up against a row of lockers. Then I remembered my phone, and I crawled towards it.

"Kurt? Kurt?" I heard Blaine's shouts as if he was far away. I brought the phone to my ear.

"Blaine?"

"Kurt! Are you okay?"

I started to get up and leave the locker room. "Yeah, nothing more than a bruise." I recounted the story as I retrieved my stuff from my locker, and went to sit in the stands next to the football field.

"I don't think he's coming out anytime soon," I muttered.

"Hey." Blaine's voice suddenly sounded stronger. "Don't beat yourself up over this. It's not your fault. He's the one that got aggressive when you tried to help."

"I guess," I said.

"Hey! Don't be sad! Besides, the December InStyle issue just came out in the mail. The gift ideas are _fantastic_."

"I guess I'll know what to look to on Black Friday then," I said bemusedly. "Speaking of Black Friday, Thanksgiving is this week. I won't be able to write or call or text much, with all the cooking and 'family time.' I swear, if I have to sit through Thanksgiving football, though, blood _will_ be shed."

A chuckle. "Same here." Muffled talking from the other end. "Kurt? I'm _really_ sorry, but something came up and-"

"Stop." I glanced at the sky. "Don't apologize. I needed to leave soon anyways."

"Okay." More muffled talking. "See you, Kurt! Happy Thanksgiving!"

I wished him the same, and hung up.

I stood up, still looking at the sky.

Life wasn't going to get easier anytime soon, was it?

* * *

><p><strong>I really should stop coming up with excuses. Basically, school, writer's block, and Fanfiction glitching (haven't been able to upload or reply to reviews lately) have stopped me from posting this.<strong>

**I created an email for people to reach me at if they can't contact me via Fanfiction. It's on my profile, along with my history with Glee.**

**(Enter disclaimer here)**

**And please… no spoilers past Asian Fusion. Let's just say watching online hasn't been working out for me…**

**Remember: if you need a timeline, just send me a message or email. I have all the dates lined up, too, now...**


	8. Chapter 8

**IMPORTANT**

**Hi guys. I realize I've been gone from the Fanfiction world for a while now, not reviewing or posting stories. But I promise, it's for good reason(s).**

**First off, I'm being bullied. I'm not gonig to go into depth, but it sucks when your friends ignore you wen you bring it up and teachers just give you a funny look.**

**And then I had a moment, and I realized… I've been using Glee as an escape. The show, that is. A way to get away from reality. And now I've decided that, well, I need to come back to this world and become stronger. Ignore the insults and whatnot. So I've been taking a long, long, break from Fanfiction. Heck, I'm still technically on my "break". I just need time away from everything that takes away from my real-world experience. I hope you guys understand.**

**This story is NOT on hiatus, FYI. I'll still work on it when I can.**

**Disclaimer: Heheheheh… oh wait, you were serious? Yeah…. No, I don't own it. I have a pound of Redvines…. Do you think Murphy will take this in exchange for the deed?**

* * *

><p>I tapped the edge of the journal with my pen. Lately, I've been to the Dalton forest just to… well, to think. A quiet place. There's only so much yelling and noise you can put up with, and trust me, the Lima Bean is <em>packed<em> with that.

_Dear Kurt,_

_So you've met Jeff, and Nick, too._

_I would say run, but that wouldn't help much in escaping their insanity._

_Anyways, this might be a bit awkward… but I want you to come to a Warbler performance. So I can finally meet you._

…_I hope that wasn't too creepy._

_But yeah. You seem like an amazing guy, and the Warblers are doing a little holiday concert on Monday the 20th, right before break. It's an open concert, so anyone can attend, and you won't have any trouble getting in. It will be in our Concert Hall (which is really just an overly large and totally unnecessary auditorium), followed by some light refreshments._

_At least, that's what the flyers say. And since Dalton makes a point of _always _being accurate, I can assume they're true._

_The Warblers are already starting to choose songs for the concert. They've even put aside Sectionals for this. (But, knowing the council, consisting of David, Wes, and Thad- who is half insane, half like Wes and David- we'll be back to Sectionals music before long.)_

_Speaking of Sectionals, our opponents are 2 groups called Aural Intensity and the Choralites. According to Trent, who, for some reason decided to research these groups (okay, that's actually kind of smart, but still), neither of them have gotten past Regionals before. The Choralites haven't even competed before._

_How's your Glee club, New Directions was it? How's it coming along?_

_I have just dropped my phone from the INCESSANT texting of Team Niff, and must now go retrieve it._

_Hope you accept, Blaine_

A holiday concert? And a chance to meet the guy who helped me (and still helps) with my bullying? Sign me up.

_Dear Blaine,_

_I would love to come._

I stopped writing, and checked the calendar on my iPhone. Yup, free!

_I don't have anything I need to do on the 20th._

Those words look _way_ more loopy than they should.

_Of course, that means Christmas gifts are in order! Can't wait to finally meet you in person._

That was normal, right?

I signed my name, then carefully set the book back into its hiding place. I bounced back to my car.

I never felt like this for Finn. For him, it was more of a… longing, maybe? But not actual yearning, or feelings. He was just a fantasy I'd conjured in my head.

But this. I think I'm falling in love (or deep like) with a guy I've never actually met.

(...which is actually kind of weird and awkward, now that I think of it, but i'll go with it.)

* * *

><p><strong>Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Like I said, I'll write when I can.<strong>

**Love, MusicalEscape**


	9. Chapter 9

**Thank you to EVERYONE for being so supportive of me. I've successfully sorted out my life (well, the big important stuff anyways) so I finally got around to typing this chapter. WOO!**

**Anyways, the 3ish months I've been dormant haven't been much wasted. Whenever I had the urge—which wasn't very often, but I worked at it- I wrote in my tiny notebook. And I ground out a chapter that I finally deem acceptable. (The extra 3 week long delay was my fault, leaving my thumb-drive at school, cutting my thumb by accident so it's hard to type, blah blah blah... smack me if you want.)**

**Also, I'm attempting to find out the exact dates of when my life started to accept Glee and FF. So far I've worked out when I first read Dalton (took me an hour, trying to find that one anon review I knew I posted...). I wanted to trace my interent history to when I first watched Glee except my old computer has crashed twice in the past year. So damn. (I can get a pretty good estimate though. Yay!)**

**I disclaim; I would have let the Warblers take over the whole freaking show if I owned it. Also, the information in here is probably in no way accurate because I have nevr had a similar experience. I based it off of what a friend once told me.**

* * *

><p><em><strong>FLASHBACK<strong>_

I fussed with my hair a minute longer. I glanced down at my outfit, feeling self-conscious. Oh, well, I would have time to fuss during the two hour car trip.

And then I would meet Blaine.

I fixed my scarf around my neck, grabbed my keys, and skipped down the stairs.

My dad looked up. "Going somewhere?" he asked, putting the TV on mute.

I sighed. "Dad, I told you about this concert weeks ago!"

He chuckled gruffly. "Just testing you. Drive safely, now."

"Alright." I threw on my dark trench, and locked the door behind me.

The drive to Dalton was filled with worries. What if Blaine was a jerk? Not like I imagined? Older or younger than he said?

I switched on my headlights as it got darker.

Nothing.

I tried again.

Still nothing.

I cursed under my breath, focusing my attention at the switch on my dashboard. Just for a second.

And then I crashed.

* * *

><p>I coughed through the smell of the airbags. My throat was sore- hell, my whole body was sore. Keeping still, I thought back to the path I took to Dalton, mentally retracing my steps. If I was correct, I had crashed at a sharp turn about two miles from Dalton. Or at least, the Dalton woods.<p>

Well. Hot damn.

Moving carefully, I extricated my iPhone from my pocket. I winced anyways, before punching in a speed-dial number.

"Daddy?" My voice trembled. "Daddy, I just crashed."

* * *

><p>I saw the headlights first. Afraid to move, I simply looked in the rearview mirror. My dad flung the door of his truck open, rushing to the car.<p>

He tried to open the door on the driver's side. It was locked. Oops. Slowly, I moved my arm to click the lock open.

My dad opened the door, fiddling with a flashlight to turn It on.

"Are you all right? Can you move?"

"I…I think so." I flexed my fingers, and slowly stretched out my legs. I attempted to get up, but stumbled. My dad caught me.

"C'mon, we're getting you checked out." Deliberately, my dad lifted me up from my seat, and placed me into the passenger seat of his truck. He flicked open his phone.

"Hello, Burt Hummel here. Car crashed, side road off of Kings Road. Can you tow it back to the shop? Thank you."

He snapped the phone shut and got into the driver's seat.

* * *

><p>"You're okay. Just a bit of impact shock. You'll be fine in a few days. During that time, your voice may be a bit rough, but don't worry. It'll go away."<p>

My dad thanked the nurse, who stood and held the door open for us.

As we started to walk down the pristine hallways that were in a state reminiscent of Ms. Pilllsbury's office, my dad started talking. "You might want to call whoever you were going to meet, so you don't worry them."

…oh yeah.

Oops.

I dug my phone out of my pocket to find 57 texts and 7 missed calls.

…oops?

I hit dial, and brought the phone to my ear. Blaine picked up on the first ring.

"KURT! Are you okay? Did something happen?" He was in a state of near panic, by the sound of his voice. Several people were murmuring in the background.

"Uhh… well… there's not exactly a good way to put this, I guess. My car… crashed?"

"WHAT?" A chorus of several voices rang out from my phone, forcing me to wrench it away from my ear.

"Sorry about that… Nick, Jeff, and Scott are all here.

"But are you okay? Your voice sounds kinda rough."

"Yeah, just impact." I coughed. "They said it should tide over in a couple of days." I waved at the receptionist as we passed.

Several, simultaneous sighs.

"Glad to hear that," said Scott good-naturedly.

"Too bad you couldn't make the concert," said Nick and Jeff at the same time. "Jinx!" they both exclaimed. I giggled.

(I swear, those two have enough chemistry to explode an amusement park. This coming from the person who met them, what, once?)

My dad and I had reached the car. He motioned for me to get off the phone.

"Guys, I gotta go. I expect you'll be bugging sometime soon?"

"Are you freaking kidding? We all stole your number off of Blaine's phone-" Cue a "Hey!" in the background- "-so we'll be in touch."

Blaine laughed softly. "Call an exorcist," he joked, "you're now cursed forever." Pause. "Anyways, talk to you soon. Hope you feel better."

"Thanks," I replied. "Bye!"

"Bye!"

I turned off my phone, getting into the passenger side of my dad's truck. When I was buckled in, he turned in his seat to face me.

"Kurt…" he began softly, "You scared me. When you called me. You just sounded so… helpless. I don't want for that to happen again."

I felt a pang of guilt. His heart was barely out of recovery, after all. Carole had been making sure that he was fine, but the toll this must have taken…

"I don't know what was running through my head. I just kept praying to a god that I don't believe in that you weren't hurt."

Another pang of guilt. The church incident was partially my fault, after all.

"So just… please don't drive. Not for forever, just a while. Get a ride from a friend or something. I just don't want you to get hurt, or…" He trailed off.

"Okay, dad." We stared at each other a few seconds, before he pulled me into a tight hug. As he held onto me, I heard him whisper "You matter Kurt, don't ever forget that."

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><p><strong>Thus ends the not-so-epic chapter of mine. I feel like I rushed everything.<strong>

**Hope you enjoyed. Remember, you can message me about anything. I can't promise the reply will be prompt,but I'll get around to it!**

**Thanks, guys.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hello, all!**

**I have to thank the Anon that pointed out that the flashback was totally unnecessary, because that got me thinking about my current chapter. Which I realized didn't fit. And then I realized I could bring it into future chapters without making it Supernatural, because what will be described happens to me once every few days and is realllly creepy. Also, I'll be turning Chapter 9 from italics into regular font to make it easier to read.**

**Oh! And please check out of-a-crescendo's fic, _but with a whimper_. I promise it's not graphic, it only swears F and S words. It's beautiful, I just discovered it today and it gave me a reason to keep going, through all this. In fact, I have 3 reasons as of now: 1, to help the suppressed and free myself too, 2, to be an inspiration to others, and 3, to keep going for you guys. You all saved me. I would insert a poem here but it's totally unnecessary but I think I'll put it at the end of the story.**

**Hello, I live in the land of denial, district Gleason 2. Nice to meet you. *Disclaim***

* * *

><p>I had spent all of Sunday thinking about the crash, and, after opting out of school on Monday, had spent most of the day thinking about it too.<p>

I carefully sit up on my bed, trying to forget the crash. It didn't make sense. I usually only dreamed about an event in my life if it was traumatic, or my mind was trying to figure something out. I _guess_ it could be considered traumatic, but I was vying for the otehr option.

Was I trying to figure something out?

This might be a bit strange, but when I have something major to figure out, my subconcious does the figuring for me. It's weird, I can say that. My dream is basically a memory, with the parts that need figuring out changed.

List time. In real life, I sat in shock a minute before being found by a passing man, driving home from work or something. It was the hospital that had called my dad. In my dream, I had called my dad. Well, that one was easy. My dad had been frantic when he heard I was in the hospital. If _I_ had called him instead of the hospital and assured him that I was okay, he wouldn't have worried so much.

Umm, in my dream I had escaped unharmed. In real life I had gotten pretty bruised up, with a few scrapes on top. Simple message there: try not to get hurt anymore.

And when I called Blaine in real life, he had been much more frantic. And Scott and Nick and Jeff hadn't been with him. Not sure about that one.

Final thing: In my dream, it was the lights that had malfunctioned. In real life it was the brakes.

Okay. Much, much worse. I had been cruising the deserted road when I hit a hill, tried to brake while going down, and you can imagine the rest.

It didn't make sense.

I reach a hand up to my throbbing head- and wince when I touch a bruise on my face.

When my mom died, every night for two months I dreamed of that horrible moment when I found out she was dying, and then the moment I saw her before she went. They had always replayed exactly as they had happened in reality. Same with my dad's heart attack, and Finn calling me a f-

Sighing, I wriggle around until I'm lying down again, before shutting my eyes and trying to force myself into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

><p>It's about an hour before I accept that I'm not going to sleep in the middle of the day.<p>

Just as I'm about to get up, however, my cell phone starts ringing. Seeing the number as Mercedes's, I pick up.

"Hello?"

"Kurt! Are you okay?"

Mercedes sounds frantic, and I recognize a myriad of voices in the background.

Kinda like the dream. Just not.

"Yeah, I'm fine… why?" Slight lie, seeing as I hadn't told New Directions about the events of Saturday.

"Well, me and Tina were walking to French when we head that jerk on the hockey team, Rick Nelson? And he was saying- he was saying-"

I can hear the panic in her voice. "Mercedes, it's alright! I'm fine. What did he say?"

"He said he had taken care of you, and that he made sure you would never spread your f-fairy dust around McKinley again."

I stop, blinking.

"_Hey, fairy!"_

"_Whatcha doing, gay-boy? Going to find someone blind enough to do you? I'm gonna be building a car with my dad!"_

"_Trying to turn this place into a gay-school, homo?"_

And suddenly I think I get it.

"Mercedes, I have to go."

"Alright, Kurt," she says uncertainly. "Just be careful, okay?"

"Right. Bye, Cedes."

Quickly, I hang up and call my dad.

"Dad, can you bring me to the shop? I think I know what happened. Please don't ask, I'll explain on the way there."

* * *

><p>I tell my dad what Mercedes had told me, along with a few stories of Rick bullying me.<p>

As we pull into the garage, he looks at me. "This isn't the full story, is it?"

I gulp. "No, dad."

He starts to get out of the car, but not before shooting me a look that tells me I'll be explaining it all later.

I sit in the desk chair while my father goes over to where my car was waiting.

He pulls out a flashlight, crouching down and flickering it around the space beneath my car. I hear him draw a quick breath.

"What, dad?"

"Brake fluid."

I feel blood rush to my face. There were a few possibilities as to why there was a leak. It was possible that a part had become loose, or something punctured that hoses that fed the fluid to the wheels. But judging by the fact that my emergency brakes had been cut...

I fiddle with account books as my dad checks out the car- first under the hood, then at each of the four wheels. He stands, and I set down a stack of papers. "Verdict?" I ask, with bated breath.

My dad huffs out a breath, not looking at me. "Slits, most likely from a knife, placed along the hoses."

I feel myself go numb, collapsing back onto the desk chair with a whimper.

* * *

><p>The following weeks are a blur. With Sue's help (her cameras placed at absurd places), we get enough evidence to try Rick Nelson in court. With Sue's pull, we get a trial within a week. (Honestly, the power this woman has scares me. I mean, manipulating the legal system?)<p>

* * *

><p>I refuse to be sworn in with the Bible. I just can't. Our lawyer arranges a different oath, held to the same esteem as swearing in at the Bible. I receive funny looks, but it's only for a moment.<p>

The evidence speaks for itself, really. Slits made along the hose, the marks made identified to be from Rick's knife- deep enough to cause a major leak, but small enough that I would get a few brakes in before the fluid ran thin. Mercedes is called in as a witness, stating what she heard. Other New Direction members attest to the fact that he indeed bullied me for my sexuality. Mostly, my time not being questioned is spent focusing on not shaking under the glare Rick is attacking me with.

In the end, he's found guilty.

He's already 18, but only gets 8 months in jail for tampering with my car, along with a restraining order from me. I honestly can say I wasn't sorry to see Rick escorted out of the court. I may or may not have collapsed on my friends, crying.

Maybe there was a light to this situation after all.

* * *

><p>Also with Sue's help, we get Sectionals pushed back until January.<p>

I don't really feel safe, though. Not from Karofsky, not from Rick. I look over my shoulder constantly, even in my own house.

I just can't keep going on like this. I jump when Carole taps me on the shoulder to tell me that dinner was ready. And not the you-surprised-me jump, the oh-holy-Shiz-University-from-Wicked-I'm-going-to-be-attacked jump.

The week after the trial, Sue pulls me into her office.

I mean that quite literally. As in, grab my arm in an iron grip and drag me into her office. Cue mini heart attack.

My dad and Carole are already there, staring at Sue as if she was crazy.

"Sit, Porcelain." I take a seat next to my dad.

"As I was just saying, you're not safe at this school, even with the help of the mighty Sue Sylvester. My spies have informed me that you've been in contact with a certain gel-head hobbit who attends a prissy little private school that _you're_ going to attend."

I gape at her, before looking at my dad and Carole. He nods, looking at me from under his baseball cap.

"We have it figured out. Ms. Sylvester called up Dalton, explained your situation… threw in a few threats… and offered up your GPA. They offered a scholarship that covers most of tuition, and the rest we can pay."

My mind is whirring, and the possibility that I might leave this hellhole is dizzying. "But… what about the commute? It's two, two and a half hours one way. I wouldn't be able to drive that far." And at once, my dreams come crashing at my shoulders.

"Covered." Carole and Sue nod along. "Dalton is open to boarders, so the commute would only be made if you came home for the weekend. You can stay the first few weekends though, to catch up academically or something."

There's a beat, before I inhale sharply. "Really?"

"Really, champ." He smiles.

I squeal- yes, squeal- and reach over to hug my dad and Carole. Then, to her surprise, I hug Sue.

And get this- _she actually returns the hug._

"Porcelain?"

I pull away, smiling widely. "Yeah, coach?"

"Be warned that I have the right to storm into that prep school at any time, make sure those kids are treating you right, then kidnap you for Cheerios practice. Also know that you will be performing with us for all competitions."

I laugh breathily, still high on the news of my transfer. "Of course, coach."

* * *

><p>Telling my friends is the hardest. They were there for me in the trial, and now I have to leave them. They all take it relatively well, though.<p>

Except Rachel.

Santana is the first to start nodding, and Mercedes is the one to say "We understand. We'll always be here when you need us." It's Rachel who cries. She flings herself into a bear hug around me, sobbing into my shoulder. "I'm sorry for everything!" she cries. I reach out awkwardly to pat her on the back. "For not being there, for always outshining you! For how hateful I was when you won the Defying Gravity diva-off! It was so, so _stupid_!" She buries her face into my jacket, and I hug back with feeling. I would miss the girl, after all.

After this, the room is a mess of tears and hugs. Even Puck cries a little, but he blames the "damn dust" and the janitors for "doing a crappy job."

I think, though, that Finn takes the news the hardest. He's quiet for some time, before looking up with a kicked-puppy expression. Quietly, he asks me, "Did we not do a good enough job protecting you. Is that… is that why you have to leave?"

"I…" I falter, before picking up my sentence. "Finn, of course it wasn't your fault! You and the guys tried your hardest to help me. For goodness sake, Sam got a black eye! You have come remarkably far from your homophobic tendencies as a jock to who you are now! We will always be brothers, okay? Don't blame yourself for this. It was something beyond your control."

I pant a little, staring at Finn to get my point across. It takes a moment, before his face lights up with a dumb smile. "Brothers?" he asks, holding open his arms.

"Brothers." I hug him.

Yup, things are looking up.

* * *

><p>I explain this to Blaine in detail later, from the court trial to my friends' reactions to Sue, and everything in between.<p>

Well, I explain it after calling his phone and screaming "I'M GOING TO DALTON!" as soon as he picks up.

After I finish explaining, though, he sits in thought for a minute.

"So… your dream was different than your reality?"

"Yeah. I think it was a message. Like how people dream things before they happen. Just reversed. With adjustments."

"Mmm." Another minute of silence. "That happens to Scott sometimes, actually. The dreaming things before they happened. He tried keeping a dream diary, but he forgot about it within a week. I think one of his dreams involved his school being turned into a mall and getting locked in… with a bunch of giant dentures that ate people."

We laugh, musing over Scott's insanity. Then, out of nowhere, a question arises from Blaine.

"What's a Cheerio?"

I laugh again, feeling lighter than ever. "Cheerios is our school's cheerleading squad that I was on for a brief time. I won Nationals with a fourteen and a half minute long Celine Dion medley in French while doing the full dance routine." My moment of great pride. I smile.

"You were a cheerleader?" Again, I laugh.

"Enough about my past! I'M GOING TO DALTON NEXT WEEK!" Ohmigod, you have you to show me around!" I finally get to meet Blaine!

Cue the brain OVERLOAD and teenage girl squealing.

"When do you start, then? We could meet in the entrance hall if you want, and I could show you around."

"Ah, let's see…" I kick my legs up, launching myself from my bed and to my desk. I rifle through my transfer papers a second before answering, "Monday the 13th. Exactly a week from today."

"Excellent. Warblers practice is also that day, and I think I could steal you an audition. Entrance hall, 2:30ish? I'll bring coffee!

"Of course." That gives me a day to unpack, meet with the headmaster, then meet Blaine.

"Kurt?" I turn to see my dad in the door, holding a stack of collapsed boxed. He motions to the stuff around me, then the boxes. I nod at him, mouthing a thank you.

"Listen, Blaine, I have to go pack. You remember my coffee order?"

"Grande non-fat mocha, check."

I smile. "'Kay. Gotta go. Bye!"

"Bye, Kurt."

I toss my phone onto my bed, then pick up the stack of cardboard my dad had left on the floor. Looking at the stuff around me, I sigh.

At least I know my Dalton room will look great.

* * *

><p>My dad, Finn(brought along to haul boxes) and I arrive at Dalton around 10 AM. We leave the car still packed with my stuff, instead hurrying along the path to what we presume is the Entrance Hall so we can meet the headmaster.<p>

Honestly? I barely remember that part. Sure, I remember the guy's name is Phil "The name's Dalton. Phil Dalton. But you can call me Phil." (horrible James Bond impression, but at least he tried), and that I got a long lecture about Dalton rules. Which turned out to be pretty lax. Obviously no bullying, lights out by midnight, but you can sneak around if you use a flashlight and aren't too loud. Seriously? I think Finn was drooling.

After the boxes are all in my room(a single), I bid dad and Finn goodbye with a hug and a stern "Remember to eat healthy!" towards my dad, and a simple "Behave, don't cause too much trouble," to Finn.

By that point it's 2:00. I pick up the map I received, and venture out onto the Dalton grounds to find the Entrance Hall from the dorms. I get there in twenty minutes(It's a long walk, okay?).

There's a boy already there. He looks up when I enter. He has brown hair similar to mine, in an upwards coif. He stands and walks to me.

"What a…" he rakes his eyes up and down my body. "_charming_ face. I presume you're new here?"

He stands a few inches taller than me, and his voice is accented. Putting on my acting face, I reply "Yes, I'm new here. My name is Kurt Hummel. Who are you?"

"Sebastian Smythe." He flashes me a dazzling white smile. "Why are you here, Kurt?"

I look around the Entrance Hall. Only me and Sebastian. The clock reads 2:23.

"I'm waiting for Blaine Anderson. Perhaps you know him?" I say politely.

Sebastian practically _snorts_. "So you're the pretty boy that Blaine's been texting. You two hooking up? 'Cause I can tell you right now, I'm a _lot_ better than him, if you want to tr-"

"Stop." My voice is cold. "_I'm _just here to wait for my_ friend_." As of right now. "You have no business here assuming things, and then shamelessly trying to get _me_ to hook up with _you._ I suggest you leave right now, Sebastian."

The situation feels strongly similar to the Karofsky confrontation, without reason. Sebastian might have been extremely forward with me, but that was no reason for me to feel unsafe. And compared to the Rick incident, the kiss was nothing. No reason to worry, right?

Sebastian at least looks guilty, a small bit. "Sorry," he apologizes. "Perhaps we could forget I just said that? I would hate for someone as gorgeous as you to be angry at me." The guilty look is gone, replaced with the smile again. He reaches up a hand to me, and I'm transported back to the locker room.

_Karofsky. Me. He kissed me. I didn't want it._

I flinch backwards before Sebastian's hand reaches me. I expect to fall into metal locker, but I don't. Instead I fall on something soft, something that makes an _oof_ as we fall.

I sit up from the floor, rubbing my side. "Sorry," I say to the person on the floor next to me. "That was my fault." I spot two thermoses rolling away as I say this.

"No, I shouldn't have come up behind you. Sor-" Almost simultaneously, we both freeze.

"Kurt?" Hazel eyes blink at me.

"Blaine?"

* * *

><p><strong>I'm evil. We already established that fact.<strong>

**Sorry to all Sebastian-lovers. It's just… Sebastian is forward, Kurt was sexually harassed, and as I typed it turned out like this. I expected Kurt to be kinda indifferent/afraid of advances at this point in time.**

**And sorry for the late update… it's just… uh… plot bunnies… except I don't want o have multiple multi-chap stories on my hands… so… yeah. *rubs back of head awkwardly* …I hope you liked?**

**And if you're wondering where I got Scott's dream from, I dreamed that happened to me once. And Scott dreasm things before they happen- like me. Except most of the timeI don't realize it until it's almost over and I get a strong sense of deja-vu.**


	11. Chapter 11

**I'm trying to write. All I really want is to act and sing and draw, but my mom is stopping me.**

**I finally understand who the bully is now. Stop trying to recreate your ideal in me, mom.**

**Cuddles to all you old and new folks out there. Thanks for stickin' by me.**

* * *

><p>"…Hi." Blaine chuckles, then stands up. All I can do is stare at him.<p>

So. This is him. The Blaine I've talked to, texted, wrote to, who helped me with my bullies among other things. And now I'm here, meeting him, and all I can do is stare.

He looks better than I expected. Gelled back curls, starting to spring free; dark in color. His hazel eyes bore into me, as if he's assessing me as well, but way subtler.

I accept the proffered hand, clambering to my feet. I realize I didn't reply.

"Hi." I smile, trying to dissipate any awkward. "Isn't this like a cheesy movie meeting?"

"Yeah," he replies, and laughs. I can feel his body tremor through his hand, which is still linked in mine.

Don't panic. Yes, Kurt, he's cute and he helped you with your problems, but do not develop a huge crush on him that makes your previous one like- like- something. THINK, KURT!

Damnit.

I'm broken away from my thoughts when Sebastian coughs.

"_Bye,_ Sebastian," Blaine says pointedly. He takes the hint and leaves.

"Sorry about that," Blaine apologizes.

"What, Sebastian or the knocking me over?" I raise an eyebrow, prepping for my _Bitch, Please_ face if he answers what I think he will.

"Both." _Bitch, Please _face in action.

"Okay, Blaine? Neither of those incidents were your fault. Sebastian was forward, but you didn't make him act like that. Unless you did. Because if you did, you better fess up." I pause. No answer. "And I was the one that backed into you. So no, no apologies."

Blaine looks slightly taken aback, then extracts his hand from mine. (Oh Gaga, he's repulsed, isn't he?) He picks up the coffee thermoses before offering one to me. "So, coffee?" He smiles.

I grin back, taking the thermos. "Sure."

There's a bong, which startles me and causes Blaine to look at the clock.

"Hourly bong, all day," he explains. "The tour will have to wait. The Warblers- glee club- have an impromptu performance right now in the Freshmen Lounge. I'm singing lead."

"I remember, you told me you were the lead vocalist. Lead the way?" Internal facepalm for reusing the word lead.

Blaine holds out his hand (so he's not repulsed by me, then) and grins. "Sure, New Kid. C'mon, I know a shortcut."

I accept his hand, and grin back.

Then we run down the hallway, Blaine tugging me along, skidding and laughing when we bump into each other.

A large group of students are gathered on the outskirts of the room when we arrive. They surround a group of boys in formation (an Asian guy in the front glares at Blaine when he enters), all standing stock-still.

"See you," Blaine whispers, and takes his position in front. The crowd silences almost immediately (not that they were loud to begin with…).

"_You think I'm pretty  
>without any makeup on<br>You think it's funny  
>when I tell the punch line wrong<br>I know you get me  
>so I let me walls come down,<br>down."_

Blaine appears to be singing at me. I can feel a huge, idiotic smile gracing my face, and a blush staining my cheeks, that normally I would be embarrassed about.

Out of the whole group of students, he's singing to me. The ghostly-pale kid who he just met in person for the first time.

But he looks different; he's not outright smiling, like he was when we talked. His smile seems kind of suppressed, his slight dance compressed. Like he wants to be loud and bouncing off the walls, but-

Ohhhh. Dalton robots. He once told me that he thought of the Warblers like a machine- They must be polished and run smoothly, and no part must outshine the other.

I see Sebastian in the back, eyes flickering between me and Blaine.

When the performance is over, people clap and smile, but refrain from cheering. Instead, they politely file out while chatting quietly.

Blaine approaches me, and reaches to my chest. He fixes my lapel, and I attempt to control my breathing and slow my heart. If he notices, he doesn't remark.

"So, allow me to help you unpack?"

"Already done," I manage. That performance left my heart stuttering.

"How about Warblers practice room, then? There's a piano, and comfy couches."

"I still have the coffee." I hold both of them up.

Blaine extends his hand like the first few times. "Follow me."

When we reach the room, I glance around to see if anyone else is there. I then flop down on the couch.

"If you want to talk-" Blaine begins, and the cue is all I need. I open my mouth say everything I had wanted to say since the crash, that I had been holding out for a face-to-face talk.

"That night when we crashed... I don't know what I felt." Blaine stops where he is for a second, before sitting down next to me. I move into a sitting position.

"There was the crash, and then someone found me, and the hospital. I was really scared at first, so I thought of my mom singing to me. She used to do that, before she died.

"In the hospital I kept thinking about mom. But not in a sad way, more of a peaceful way. I guess that scared me at first. But maybe it's good. Like I'm finally coming to terms with it? That it took an accident for me to come to terms with her death. They're not even related, really. I guess I should visit mom's grave soon, but I can't drive for a while. Promised my dad.

"What frightens me most, I think, was the dream. I guess my mind figured out what happened without my realizing. I always pay such close attention to weird things. So when in my dream, it was the lights that were broken instead of my brakes, I zeroed in on that. It made me think.

"And then Mercedes called me, and it all fell together. Rick made some jokes about taking care of me, the brakes had suddenly stopped working, and I felt stupid for not realizing. I work with my dad in his auto-shop, so I should've known. Brakes stop working for two or three reasons: brake fluid is low, someone cut the brakes, or someone slits them so the brake fluid leaks out slowly, letting the car do a few more turns before the brakes cease function."

I shake my head, drawing my knees to my chest.

"At first, I didn't think the accident affected me much. No, it was knowing who did it and their purpose that stung. Rick was one of my main bullies, but not prominent enough for me to worry about anything beyond a few bruises and such. And Karofsky, but after he kissed me-" I take a steadying breath. "He was a tiny bit more physical, pushing me around, but generally avoided me. I'm just so afraid, now."

I hug my knees. Blaine hugs me, rubbing my back. He pulls back.

"I think you're justified to be afraid." I look at him. "I got interested in psychology in middle school. Rick, he was a bully, but he didn't go out of his way to do anything beyond the ordinary shoves, right? God, I hate calling shoves 'ordinary.'" Blaine looks disgusted.

"Well, yes, normal bullying. Locker checks, dumpster dives, slushy facials." Blaine looks even more disgusted.

"So Rick was predictable. But for him to suddenly explode like that, to randomly do something that could have killed you- he was no longer tame. He went from a situation under control- at least, your definition of under control- to life threatening in a day. Possibly, you perceive everyone else as a possible threat now too. Like anyone could suddenly explode and lash out at you." He clears his throat. "Of course, that's the psychological view of things…"

I think a few seconds. It's all very logical, and fits my situation. "So that's why I flinched when Sebastian was so forward with me?"

"Wait, _what_?"

"When I was waiting for you in the lobby, Sebastian spotted me," I explain. "He approached me and started making, uh, unpleasant remarks."

"Kurt, what did he say?" Blaine stares at me intently.

"Um…" I squirm a bit under his gaze. "He asked if I was the 'pretty boy' that you were texting." I struggle to recall details. Thank Gucci for this amazing memory. "He asked if we were hooking up, and said he was a lot better than you." I swallow. Sexual harassment. "I told him to stop, that we were just friends, and he looked sorry for a second before-" I close my eyes. This part is easiest to remember. The panic, the flashback; it all comes so easily. "He said maybe we could start over. He said, 'I would hate for someone as gorgeous as you to be mad at me.' Then he reached a hand towards me, and I freaked. I flinched backwards, and bumped into you. You know the rest."

I look out the window. At the time, I was angry at Sebastian, but now I can see it for what it was. Sexual harassment.

"Damnit." Blaine runs a hand through his curls, letting some of them spring free from their gel imprisonment. "Sebastian… he's just like that. Ever since-" He falters, but I urge him on.

"What? What happened?"

"It was back when he first came to Dalton. He was a freshman. He was really nice, always helping people. Had a boyfriend at a different school. They were really happy together, and the boyfriend would visit him often.

"Apparently the boyfriend left his phone in Sebastian's dorm, and Sebastian wanted to check back to a picture that was taken on one of their dates. So he goes to the photos, but there's a picture of a naked guy. He checks, and it's recent. Apparently, there were lots of photos of different guys like that.

"So he goes to the boyfriend's house, and he's making out with another guy. Sebastian explodes, breaks up with him, and he hasn't been the same since. He completely changed. I think it's some sort of unofficial competition with himself and his ex. Like, _you broke my heart by sleeping with multiple guys, but who's sleeping around now?_ I don't get it, but that's how he is."

I stare at Blaine, who in turn is looking out the window. "How do you know this?"

"The whole school knows. But as this defies all Dalton roboticism, it was ignored by everyone. Except me."

Blaine is still looking out the window. He smiles slightly, in a sad way. "It's snowing."

I look out, and sure enough there are small white flakes dancing down from above.

"I tried to help Sebastian. I tried to get him to talk to me. It didn't work. He just said I didn't understand him. And he's right. I don't. I don't think I ever will.

"What drives a person to be like that? Was there something else, and the boyfriend was just the tipping point? Why couldn't I help? I know this story doesn't justify his actions, but why?"

There's such a feeling of despair and hopelessness that I stand.

"I'm ending this sob-fest. I shared my feelings, you shared… Sebastian's feelings. Now, guide me to the dorms so I can change out of my uniform and we can go outside. You better change, too. Up!"

I pick up one of the untouched coffee thermoses, and stand by the door. I raise an eyebrow for added effect, daring him to challenge me.

"Go outside? Why? It's snowing."

I sigh. "That's why we're _going _out there, Blaine."

"Ah." He stoops over and picks up the other thermos.

"Now, we need to go back to the dorms and change so we don't ruin our uniforms."

I expect him to take me by the arm again, his touchy-feely-ness being apparent by now. But this time, he brushes past me and waits in the hall. "C'mon," he says. I follow.

We end up on one of the benches in the dimly lit courtyard. The snow is blank, untouched, save our footprints leading a path to us.

"Mr. Travers is mostly calm and boring, but if you upset him he becomes extremely upset. So no texting, passing notes, etcetera in his class."

"I can't believe you just said etcetera." I smile. "At least I know I'm not alone in that now. Everyone back at McKinley would just say 'and so on' or 'blah blah blah'."

"Seriously?" Blaine grins back. I nod.

"Okay, anyways. Everyone shares the same lunch, and then a twenty-minute break where we're allowed to run amok. Or not, really. I usually go to the forest then. You're welcome to join. Oh! And Nick and Jeff are juniors, like you, so you might see them around. I'm a senior, so I'm stuck with most of the Warblers. Not fun." He frowns. "I tried to get you an audition for today, but this morning Wes told me there was to be an impromptu performance. No way of opting out. Sorry."

"I don't mind," I say. "I could take a few days to adjust before joining."

"Okay then. Just to let you know, the first few days here will be… strange, to say the least. You'll know when you adjust. In the meantime, I'm going to guess dinner is soon judging by the setting sun." He stands, brushing off his black jeans. I stand, too, brushing off my red skinnies.

"We'll be a bit strange, out of uniform." Blaine shrugs.

"Maybe. Do you want to change?"

He hesitates. "No."

"We'll make an entrance, then. Refusal to conform?"

Blaine stays silent a minute. "Sure," he offers, as if he feels the opposite of his response. Unsure.

This must have been what he meant. _Shine equally_. A mass, all in the same uniform.

I may not be the best at reading people, but Blaine looks like he wants out. But he's stuck.

I flash him my brightest smile, adjusting my delicately-knit, slouchy red beanie.

As we wander to the dining hall (READ: Blaine wanders, I follow), I run my mind back over the day. Especially the Sebastian situation.

How did it escalate so fast? Pleasantries to shamelessly asking for a hookup. From kind to a complete player. What drives a person to change like that?

Again, I may not be the best at reading people, but maybe Sebastian was slightly angry when he was talking to me. Since I acted so much at McKinley, every day, I could see he was angry under his smirk. And maybe… sad?

Or perhaps I was making things up to go with the story Blaine told me.

But I have an impeccable memory.

Also, why wasn't I so upset about the Rick thing? Was it because I had someone to talk to, and a crush to distract me? On the same person?

When we enter the dining hall, students turn, smile, and wave. Simple gestures.

"Why are they waving at us?" I hiss to Blaine.

"Well, for one thing, you're a new student," Blaine says, voice slightly amused. "Hospitality and manners are things we learn as freshmen. We have a class on it. Two, I'm the lead soloist of the Warblers. We're kind of rock stars around here. Three, we're dressed out of norm. I swear, Wes sleeps in his uniform. As for the rest of them, I have no clue."

I pick out a salad and water while Blaine grabs lasagna. I wait awkwardly, not knowing how to pay.

"You'll get a card soon," Blaine explains when he gets his food. He pulls out said card. "Tuition pays for a certain number of meals each semester. Most of the boarders stay on weekends, too, and the card covers that too." Blaine swipes his card, and punches in a few number. He swipes again, repeating his code. "There, dinner's on me."

"Wh-"

"I'll pay until you get a meal card. Then you owe me coffee." Blaine scoops up both of our trays, starting into the organized mess of tables.

"If you go home for the weekend, the extra meals either become bonus meals, if you have a friend over- which no one does, really- or if you're really hungry. Or credit for the school store."

People throw a few "Hi, Blaine!"s or "Welcome!" at us as we walk.

When we reach an empty table, Blaine places the trays across from each other. I sit down, feeling awkward that it's just the two of us at the table.

Either not noticing or taking a hint from my uneasiness, Blaine says "Nick and Jeff will be here soon."

As if on cue, the two pop out of the mass of tables.

"Kurt!" Jeff says, plopping down next to me. His tray has a burger. Nick sits next to Blaine, tray laden with grilled cheese and soup. "Already getting cozy with Blaine? You sly dog!" He moved to punch me lightly in the shoulder. I wince in preparation.

"Jeff," Blaine says firmly.

"Sorry," Jeff mumbles, turning to his burger.

"Nice beanie." Nick smiles at me, before whacking Jeff on the head with a folder.

"What's in the folder?" Blaine asks, taking a bite from his lasagna.

"Kurt's schedule." I stop eating and look at him. "Sorry! You weren't in your room, and since you don't have your card key yet, it wasn't locked."

I can't help but smile at Nick and Jeff's chemistry as Jeff squawks in protest.

"Anyways, Blaine, we've got a smartie with us. Also, Don't mind Jeff," Nick says to me. "Scott told me I could advance to orange ninja while Jeff stays in red. It's the rainbow! We're just one big happy gay family. Except maybe Scott. But maybe he's gay too. Super gay family!

"But back to the point. Kurt here has a few senior classes. AP Calc, AP English… Dang. And there's a note at the bottom. Do the honors, Kurt?" Nick offers the paper to me.

I take it, reading the scribbled note at the bottom. "It says that since I finished French III last year, I can help Madame Rosin if I wish. And that it would be counted as an AP class."

Jeff whistles. "Dang. I thought McKinley wasn't the best public school?"

"It's not. Most of the teachers just disliked me when I was bored and relaxing in my chair with a book while everyone else was saying 'Why isn't he doing anything?' so they just had me work my way through the textbooks." I shrug. "Mostly, I'm ahead in English and math. They make sense to me."

"And French?" Blaine prompts.

I blush. "Not important."

Jeff prods further. "What's your secret? Grow up in Europe? French-speaking relative? An addiction to French romance novels?"

I take a bite of my salad. "Nope."

The Asian guy from earlier approaches the table. "Blaine, I need to speak to you," he says tersely, and politely.

"Sure, Wes," Blaine replies, but doesn't move.

"Alone," Wes amends, eyes darting to me.

"Okay," Blaine says agreeably. "Nick, make sure Jeff doesn't hurt Kurt."

"Can do." Nick salutes him jokingly, and Blaine and Wes walk away, talking.

As soon as they're out of earshot, Nick leans in and whispers, "So what is it? Did you not want Blaine to hear? You can tell us. Please, Kurt?"

They both give me the puppy eyes. I look down at my food. "Nope."

"C'mon, it can't be that bad. Speaking French isn't that guilt-inducing. I would expect this reaction from someone if they were… a cheerleader, or something."

I can feel a heavy blush settling onto my cheeks. Damn my pale complexion!

"Oh my god, you were, weren't you?" Jeff says loudly.

'Shut up! It was only to get more solos. In my two years at Glee, I never got a whole song to myself. Except Defying Gravity. Except I had to fight for that, because it was a _girl's _song. And Sue let me join, and I sang, and performed, and I was happy. Okay? Not a word to Blaine." I glare at them as threateningly as I can, what with the blush and everything.

"That's messed up."

"Well, did you enjoy being a cheerleader?" Jeff looks at me innocently.

I have to think about this one. Sue was a slave-driver, sure, but I got to perform. And generally, she was actually… pretty nice to me.

"Yes," I finally decide. "The French was just an added bonus."

"Wait, how do French and cheerleading link together?"

I'm saved from answering by Blaine and Wes making their way back to the table.

"-let him audition, Wes! You'll see."

"Blaine, we need evidence that he can perform, not just sing! Adding him into the Warblers would require a complete rewrite of the formation! We need to know if he's prepared for that, and if he's worth the trouble."

"Of course he's worth the trouble!" Blaine shoots back, angrily.

"Ahem." Nick cuts into their conversation, standing. "There is plenty of evidence, I'm sure."

Wes glares at him. "What evidence? Blaine just told me that he never had a solo in his old Glee club. We need _evidence!"_

"Hey!" I object. "I had a solo. Defying Gravity. I auditioned for it and everything."

"Was it filmed?"

"Well, no."

Wes sighs. "See, Blaine? Look I'm not trying to cause trouble. I just want you to think about the team-"

"Actually, I'm sure there is plenty of filmed evidence. After all-" Jeff shoots me an apologetic look. "-he was a cheerleader, and plenty of schools film their half-time shows. What was your cheerleading squad?"

I glare at Jeff half-heartedly. "William McKinley High Cheerios."

Nick and Jeff glance at each other. "Whoa."

"What?"

"Do these happen to be the same Cheerios that won Nationals seven years straight?"

"The same Cheerios that were supposedly led to victory by an unknown male cheerleader?"

"A cheerleader that sang a fifteen minute Celine Dion medley in French while performing?"

I feel myself blush even deeper. "Fourteen and a half, actually."

Jeff mock-glares at Nick. "I knew we should've watched that video!"

"So, is there or is there not substantial video evidence?"

Jeff claps a hand onto Wes's shoulders. "Don't get your panties in a twist, Wessie-poo, we'll be at tomorrow's meeting with '_substantial video evidence'_." He guides Wes away, beaming.

"Prepare an audition for tomorrow, then!" Wes calls over his shoulder.

We all sit down again. Blaine picks up a forkful of his cooling lasagna. "So, what's this about a French-singing cheerleader I hear?" Blaine teases.

I blush for the billionth time that day. "Shut up."

"Sorry about Wes. He's…"

"A bit too obsessed with the Warblers?"

"Too attached to his gavel?"

"Too robotic?"

Blaine sighs at Nick and Jeff. "He just really cares."

"About the team," Jeff supplies helpfully.

"Oh, yes. The ever-synchronized Warbler team, that must all be equals," Nick recited.

"Honestly, he's not that bad," Blaine tells me.

I choose not to reply in favor of taking a bite.

"So, you will have something ready for tomorrow?"

"Of course," I reply, concentrating very hard on my salad.

* * *

><p>"Rachel, I need your help!" I cry as soon as Skype loads.<p>

The camera focuses onto the face- faces- of not just Rachel, but Mercedes, Tina, Quinn, Brittany, and Santana. I blink a few times.

"HEY KURT!" they all scream, causing me to wrench backwards a bit from my screen. And, of course, Rachel and Mercedes seemed to be competing for the highest note, even in their screams.

"Hello, girls!" I reply, a smile breaking onto my face.

"So, how's Dalton been?" Rachel asks, drawing out the 'o' in 'so'.

"It's been pretty good." I fill them in quickly, the incident with Sebastian, meeting Blaine, the explanation, and dinner squished into a few sentences.

"So I need an audition by tomorrow. I thought I would have a few days at least!"

"So… they have the Cheerios videos?" Mercedes lifts an eyebrow, the effect softened by her purple flannel pajamas.

"Well, no. Nick and Jeff said they'll have it. I trust them."

"Shouldn't the video be enough to get Kurtie to join the Garglers? I mean, he _was _totally hot in them." Brittany beams at me, head on Santana's shoulders.

Rachel swats at her. "Of course not! They need to see how he performs live, of course. Kurt, I understand your problem perfectly. What kind of song are you searching for?"

"Well- I was thinking of _My Heart Will Go On-_"

Choosing to be logical, Quinn cuts me off. "What kind of group is the Warblers?"

I open my mouth to speak as Santana pushes Rachel off the chair in front of the computer, replacing her. She starts typing rapidly, waving a hand and saying "Go on."

I falter a bit, startled. "Well, uh, they're apparently kind of strict. They live by a mantra of equality, yet they have a lead soloist. Wait, this sounds familiar." I shoot a mock glare at Rachel.

"Oh, here. Let's see, Warbler cover of _Cooler Than Me_." Tina points at the screen, and Santana follows.

"Sharing screens."

I watch the video, the sound coming through second hand via Rachel's speakers.

Mercedes huffs. "They're doing it pretty well."

Everyone shushes her, myself included.

We watch a few minutes, before stopping the video. My screen returns to the Skype window.

"Okay, we have information. They dance like freaking robots."

Quinn frowns at her. "It was pretty good." Everyone turns to look at her. "Okay, a bit mechanical, but they had perfect pitch."

"And so do _we_, and dance moves to boot. We'd kick their asses. No offense, Kurt," Rachel adds.

Brittany smiles. "We're doing really well Kurtie! We miss you, and today was weird, but we started this new dance move-"

Tina claps a hand over her mouth. "Sorry, Kurt. Not that we don't trust you," she shoots me an apologetic look. "But we can't take any chances. You're competition now."

"It's okay. And I'm not competition yet. I need to audition." I sigh heavily.

"Okay, nerds, I just went through the list. Get this, they're _all top 40s songs."_

I frown. "Damn. And going by what Nick and Jeff said, I shouldn't step outside that."

"Why not?" the girls chime. "I mean," continues Mercedes, "maybe a little spunk is what they need."

I shake my hand. "I'm not sure."

"How about stepping out of the box, while still staying in the fence? Top 40, but edgy." Tina shrugs.

I hesitate. Normally, I would just go with the songs that best suit me, but… if it means getting into the Warblers, a decidedly Top 40 group, then I'd be flexible.

Brittany's eyes light up. "How about some Lady Gaga, Kurtie?"

"Britt, you're a genius!" She glows.

We debate a few minutes before settling on a song, at which point I yawn and notice the time.

"I should be going to sleep," I say, rubbing my eyes. "First day of classes tomorrow."

"Go! Shoo! You have to tell us about your audition tomorrow night!"

"Night, girls." I blow them a kiss.

"Night, Kurt," the girls chime, mimicking me and blowing kisses.

I turn off the computer, rummaging through my closet for pajamas. I pull them on, sweeping my eyes around my room once more.

I turn off the light, thinking into the darkness; _Maybe I can make a home at Dalton._

* * *

><p><strong>I saw some local theatre recently. It was terrific, literally made me breathless. I want to do that one day.<strong>

**I just realized that I had Seb call Kurt "pretty boy." I actually just started Criminal Minds a few weeks ago, way after I wrote that part. Whoa.**

**Next time: Warbler audition!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Hi guys! It's been… crazy for me.**

**I really wish I could write more. I'm so, so sorry for not being able to update more often. I can't promise that the next update will be soon; I'm not sure about anything anymore. The only thing I know for certain is that each morning, the sun will rise.**

**And that's enough to keep me going.**

* * *

><p>I slow my steps as I approach Warbler Hall. (Yes, it has a plaque. It's gold and mounted and everything.)<p>

Some of the giddiness of yesterday has worn off; the novelty that was Dalton had put me a bit out of sorts. I wince slightly, remembering the rushed conversation (read: my word barf) in the Warblers Practice Room. It hadn't been much of a conversation, but I feel slightly better about my situation now that I've cobbled together enough words to express myself.

I stop at the portrait of Henry Dalton (1873-1938), reaching into the pocket of my uniform slacks to pull out my iPhone. I had downloaded the backup to the Lady Gaga song I was going to sing, even though it wasn't the best suited for my voice. Rachel said that the song worked for me, though, and that I would even score a few points for choosing a song by a Top 40 artist.

I take a few deep breaths to prepare myself. Rachel knows what works well with me, I just have to trust her. I square my shoulders, lifting my head, and round the corner.

…to find a closed set of doors. Great. I prepared myself, to be met with another obstacle. As if auditioning wasn't hard enough.

I reach out to open the door, which opens before I touch it. A slightly stocky boy is holding the door, his hair styled in an upward coif. My hand falls back to my side, and I clutch my iPhone like a lifeline.

"Thank you, Warbler Trent. Auditionee Kurt Hummel, please enter." Wes's stiff, yet slightly familiar voice greets me. He speaks in staccato, like an offbeat song without the tune. Strange.

I can feel the nerves starting to grip at me, so I put on a determined face and walk in. Three guys are sitting at what I assume is the head table; Wes is in the center, a black guy is on his right, a brunette on his left. I hear the doors shut behind me, but I ignore the noise in favor of sweeping my eyes across the room. Boys are standing and sitting neatly, not even close to slouching. Blaine is sitting on a couch facing the doors, flanked by Nick and Jeff (who lean against the back of the couch freely).

"Kurt Hummel, you will stand here for your audition." The black male points at a spot near a window, besides a table. I stare at the space, with the light softly filtering in. It doesn't have much room.

Crap. The one thing that we forgot when planning my audition song- I might not be able to move freely and express myself. Suddenly, the magic of _Brown Eyes_ leaves. It's a song that I strut around to, not one that I can stay still to. Without movement, the song is almost nothing. That, along with it not being _perfectly_ suited for my voice-

I inhale silently, slipping my iPhone back into my pocket. _Sorry, Rachel._ If I was standing at audition, at least I would sing a song that one would stand to.

I feel confidence begin to flush through me. It's not much, but I use that to propel myself to the spot. I turn to face the group of silent Warblers. I fix my eyes to a large, empty armchair.

"For my audition, I'll be singing _Don't Cry For Me Argentina._" I inhale again, taking a beat to breathe.

_It won't be easy,  
>You'll think it's strange<br>When I try to explain how I feel_

I turn slightly, shifting to my gaze to the window. From my spot in front of the Warbler Leader Table Thing, I can see a small bunch of trees. One stands out, slightly apart from the other trees.

I let the song wash over me. To my days at McKinley, before the bullying got really bad, before Karofsky, before Rick. Back when I first joined Glee, and it was just showtunes and fun. Rachel and I sang this for fun on a free day, dancing a slow waltz to the melancholy tune. (Rachel had led, insisting that I was doing the steps wrong. I was fine with that, since I knew the follow part better from dancing with my mom when I was young.) We had ended the dance facing the audience, both smiling ever so slightly, me with my hand on my heart. I smile at the memory, feeling tears come to my eyes. I blink them away hastily, continuing the song.

_I had to let it happen, I had to change  
>Couldn't stay all my life down at heel<br>Looking out of the window, staying out of the sun_

I turn my shoulder ever so slightly towards the sea of stony –faced boys. I glance at Blaine. He's smiling slightly, but his head twists to the sides.

It hits me, then: what I'm doing. I walked into the Warblers practice room, ready to sing a song that almost guaranteed me a spot in the Warblers. I ruled against it in favor of a song that suited me better. A song that most likely would lead to me not being in the Warblers. I feel my eyes widen slightly, and my voice wavers. I continue, though, red-faced but determined to finish.

_Have I said too much?_  
><em>There's nothing more I can think of to say to you<br>But all you have to do is look at me to know  
>That every word is true<em>

I take the higher note for the end, letting it ring out for a few seconds before ending.

I watch Wes and the two guys beside him exchange glances. Nobody in the room makes a sound.

"Thank you, Kurt Hummel. You may leave. We will alert you of our decision."

My heart plummets. I chose the wrong song.

"Whoa, whoa, WHOA!" Jeff hops to his feet, Nick following suit. "We still haven't watched the, ahem, 'substantial video evidence.'"

I remain frozen in place, watching several Warblers glance around at each other.

"You have videos, Warblers Nick and Jeff?" the black guy asks, before being silenced by a glare from Wes.

"Yes, David, and if you give us a minute we'll show you." Nick smiles, walking around the couch and wheeling out a small table with a laptop on it. Jeff busies himself with taping up a large sheet of white paper on the wall.

"Lights, Trent?" The guy that opened the door reaches a hand onto the wall beside him, and the lights dim. A projector (bearing the name of Mrs. Williams, written neatly on the side) beams an image of me onto the paper.

Oh _hell _no.

I watch as a red-and-white clad me struts across a gym floor, towards Mercedes, who is clad in a similar outfit.

I swear to whatever holy being (or lack thereof) that Nick and Jeff worship that they will _pay_.

_Come on girl  
>I've been waiting for somebody<br>to pick up my stroll_

I am severely tempted to sink into the floor; I watch as many eyebrows rise upwards, Blaine's the highest of them all. Nick and Jeff grin at each other, delighted. I don't look towards the head table, since I'm afraid of what Wes might look like. And his posse. Since they seem like a posse. I mean, Wes has spoken the most, the David guy once, and the other kid not at all. Like _Mean Girls_, but less pink.

Around the _tick tock_ part of the song, the video switches to me singing _Defying Gravity._

They taped that?

I hit the high F perfectly (I resist singing along; Flying high, de_fy_ing gravity!), and someone whistles. Several heads turn, but no one apologizes, looks sheepish, or anything. As a unit, they all return their attention to the screen.

I'm torn between wishing to disappear and preening with pride; I can feel several eyes on me, though, so I choose to keep a poker face.

The song ends, and the video splices to a large stage, dimly lit. Faint strains of a song float through the speakers, before it suddenly changes dynamics. I start, realizing what the video is.

Oh, _double_ hell no.

A pack of girls scurries gracefully from either side of the stage, springing into backflips and mid-air splits. Their red-and-white skirts swishing, they form a pyramid that seems to split in two, starting with a back-handspringing Brittany at the top. I remember how we had practiced together after school, starting on the bleachers when they were folded in; Santana had been there, ready to catch Britt if she fell. The routine was surprisingly fast-paced for the song medley.

I brace myself, just as a red-and-white clad me springs onstage, singing in French with a twirl and a high-kick, joining the front line of dancers. I cringe internally, realizing that a pack of 20-some teenage boys are scrutinizing my performance. Or looking at the girls.

Impatiently, I wait for the video to end. For a split second, the screen turns black and the words _Made by Sue Sylvester and Becky Jackson _captures the screen. Afterwards, no one says a thing. Eventually, Wes clears his throat and says in a monotone, "Pending Warbler Kurt, you may leave."

I stand carefully, allowing my eyes to sweep around the room. Nick and Jeff are grinning at each other and me; Blaine smiles slightly. Others look faintly impressed. I flicker my eyes towards the head table; David is smiling slightly, Wes sits stone-faced, and I can't read the other boy. As I walk towards the door, I catch sight of Sebastian. He's smiling- a genuine smile- as if he enjoyed the show, then smirks when he sees me. I feel panic slowly creeping up inside me as the smirk burns itself into my mind.

I'm at Dalton. No one will harm me. I just had a great audition, mostly thanks to Nick and Jeff. And Sue and Becky, apparently.

I calmly push through the doors, hearing them swing close to the murmurs starting to rise up. I make it to the corner before breaking into a run. I had been fine until Sebastian looked at me like that, in an expression that was a little too close to Rick's, a little too reminiscent of Karofsky.

Eventually I'm wandering the halls, gazing at the well-kept antique furniture. A displacement of space catches my eye as I pass a plant. Cautiously, I peer around the edge of the pot to find a small, dark opening. I'm curious, I admit. Against my better judgment, I duck into the nook.

_Oh_.

I'm met with a short corridor that ends in a small, cushiony window seat. The window is tall, reaching the ceiling, and faces the forest. I sit, swinging my legs up so that I'm sitting with the window on my right. The seat is perfectly wide enough to fit me, probably too small for most other boys. My knees are bent, feet flat on the cushion. I can imagine myself holding a notebook or novel, gazing out at the snow-blanketed ground- or, if I last at Dalton till spring, the green woody expanse.

"Hey."

I whip my head around to the source of the voice. "Blaine." I acknowledge him, not moving from my window perch.

His face twists into a small smile. "That was an… interesting audition."

I cringe. "A bit unconventional for the Warblers?"

"How about a lot unconventional?" I balk at the bluntness.

"It was very _me._"

"Yeah." Blaine smiles again. "They kicked me out so the council could make the final decision, but I would say you have a pretty good chance of getting in because of the video." I nod, a tiny bit relieved. "A word of advice, though? Don't be so… showy next time." he speaks almost cautiously, choosing words carefully, as if I'd explode if he said something wrong.

The tone he uses is what irks me the most, like he's changed from 'friends' voice to 'peer advisor'.

"What do you mean? "I ask cautiously, a hint of my annoyance coming through dangerously. I think I know what he means.

"Kurt... The Warblers are one unit. We all work together, making sure we don't outshine each other. We try not to do songs like... show tunes, or ballads, because those usually focus on one person. We want to highlight everyone's talent. That's why we have solo auditions. So, please, tone it down? I would hate for you to get removed from the group."

Removed from the group? I wouldn't be able to face the New Directions if I was kicked out of the Warblers. "Okay."

"Thanks." Blaine looks at the window above me. "I see you've found one of Dalton's hidden niches."

"Yeah, I was wandering around and stumped on it." I give a little one-shouldered shrug.

Blaine grins. "That's how you'll find most of these little spaces. No one talks about them or maps them out. You have to stumble upon them on your own. I actually found a space with a piano, once. Haven't been there in a while..." he trails off, as if remembering something.

I would love to find the piano. I haven't had the opportunity to play for so long, not since I started climbing trees. I used to stay after, waiting for the halls to desert. When I was a freshman, I would huddle in the room and wait for the jocks to trample past before playing and singing. Then, when I was a sophomore, Glee started and I no longer had to play. I miss it a bit though. Guess I'll have to start searching the school.

Somewhere, a bell rings six times. Blaine and I both look up.

"Dinner bell," Blaine shrugs. "You coming?"

I think for a second, before shaking my head no. I'm not that hungry, anyways.

"Seeya around, then."

"Seeya."

I turn back to watch the last light filtering out of the sky, bathing the corridor in gray, then black. My eyes adjust, and I slowly make my way back to the hallway. It's dark, and suddenly I feel lost; lost and scared.

I start humming as I wander around in the pitch darkness. Soon, I'm singing.

_Won't you light my candle?  
>Oh, won't you light my candle?<em>

I turn a corner, straining my eyes for any light.

"Boo!"

I shriek mid-note, a dozen scenarios flashing through my mind.

"Whoa! Kurt, it's just me. Nick." A flashlight flickers on, turning to shine on the holder.

Jeff swipes the flashlight. "And me!"

"Oh… hi guys." I will my erratic heartbeat to slow, silently reassuring myself that it was only my friends.

Would that be the right word?

"So, what are you doing out this late?" Nick grabs the flashlight back, sweeping its beam across the hallway. It looks eerie, the antiques casting long shadows.

"I, uh, got lost and couldn't find my way out?" I smile sheepishly. "What about you?"

"Blainers got nervous when you didn't find your way back to the dorms. So we formed a search party."

"_What?"_

"Well, not a search party, per se. Really, just four people. It's a big school. Me and Nick went off to the main building, and Blaine and Sebastian are searching the art and science buildings. Speaking of which…" Jeff reaches into his pocket, and throws his phone at Nick. Nick catches it easily, flipping it open and firing off a text.

"Sebastian?" I feel the blood draining out of my face.

"Yeah." Jeff looks at me carefully, before taking his phone back from Nick.

"I'm glad that you guys found me." The way I say it could either mean I'm grateful- which I am- or that I'm happy that Blaine and Sebastian hadn't found me.

We walk for a bit in silence, before Nick asks, "Kurt? Are you okay with Sebastian?"

"No. Yes. No." I shrug, before realizing that they can't see me. "He… came onto me on my first day. Rather harshly."

"If it was sexual harassment then you should tell-"

"No. If I tell someone, then there will be a big mess of getting him in trouble, and my dad has enough to worry about."

"Kurt. This is about you, not your dad."

"I know…" I trail off. "I know I should, but I've only been here for a few days. I don't need to cause a ruckus for something that never went farther than words."

We walk silently for a time more.

"What did he say?" Jeff asks.

"He… assumed that Blaine and I were sleeping together, and then proceeded to shamelessly ask if I would like to switch partners." I blush heavily, thankful for the darkness.

Nick swears. "And he was searching for you! The nerve-"

"Nick, it's okay. I promise, if he does anything else I'll take him straight to the Headmaster."

Speaking of which, I suddenly remember Headmaster Dalton's tip to use a flashlight for late-night wanderings, and start giggling.

"What?"

"Nothing, just remembering something that Headmaster Dalton said."

"He said the flashlight thing to you, too?"

We reach a door, which Jeff pushes open. It's cold outside, and dark. I pull my academy blazer tighter around myself, wishing for my coat.

"Kurt!"

Blaine runs towards me, hugging me tightly. "Oh thank goodness," he murmurs.

"Blaine," I say breathlessly, "Relax. It wasn't so bad that you had to send a search party. Although it was greatly appreciated." I smile and Nick and Jeff.

"I got worried!" Blaine says. "It's almost eight, too!"

I see Sebastian approaching us out of the corner of my eye. "Come on, let's go where it's warm," I say.

Before I can protest, Blaine takes his coat off and wraps it around my shoulders. "C'mon, if we hurry, the kitchen'll have some food left." We start walking, Nick and Jeff falling into step on my left.

I turn to glance around at Sebastian, who walks silently behind us.

For the first time, I don't feel scared of him. I don't feel like he's a Rick, or a Karofsky. Instead, I feel like I've finally gained control over something, for once.

I turn back around and smile.

* * *

><p><strong>I have a vague idea of what's happening next. Until then, thank you.<strong>

**Also- yes, Sue and Becky did make the video of Kurt's performances. Because Sue knows everything. Everything.**

**Also, Scott is willing to give free ninja lessons to whoever can stop Blaine from playing Katy Perry on an endless loop. Says that all the Teenage Dream is messing with his chi.**


End file.
